Winchesters don't play well with others
by SheyRicci
Summary: Despite Dean's reluctance, Sam convinces him to tag along with other hunters on a job that doesn't turn out the way Sam had planned.
1. Chapter 1

Know what's great about supernatural fiction? I can make up my own curses and lore and cures...and I DID!

* * *

He did not want to be here. Oh, at first he'd been eager to come then they arrived and found other hunters already on the job. Once it was clear they weren't welcome or wanted, he'd done an abrupt about-face and informed Sam it wasn't their problem and it was time to leave. He'd insisted the other hunters were capable of handling the situation; said he felt he'd done his time, paid his dues and owed no more – to anyone.

_'Come on Sam, let's go. We don't need to be here.' he'd pleaded. 'We'll head up to Rufus's cabin, do some fishing, you can sleep outside, on the hard ground, in the cold, with wildlife – you're fond of that. You know, under the stars. What do you say? Huh? Let's just go.'_

But had Sam listened? No, oh hell no. Not Sam. Oh woe….but the kid had dug in his heels and stood firm. And man-oh-man, he had wheedling guilt-trips down to an art: Please Dean? Just this once, Dean? What can it hurt? We don't have anything else on the books. It's not a bad thing Dean, to know other hunters, to establish a relationship with a couple of them, get to know them. Most we know were Dad or Bobby's associates and you gotta be honest Dean, there ain't too many of them left.

But…with all they had going on in their lives…..still missing Bobby – a hurt that was deep and constant and on-going with no immediate end in sight, and how long had it been? And then there was Benny and oh, poor Kevin! Nearly a loss a year and he wasn't ready to face another – even if it were another hunter he barely knew. He didn't think he could. No…no, he knew; he just couldn't do it.

He was content to take his head, stick it in the sand and flip the world off. He'd had enough, he'd done enough, he'd given enough. It was that simple. Why couldn't Sam see that? Dean hadn't really worked with other hunters since the Campbell clan debacle and he wasn't the least bit eager to do so now. And it wasn't like the other hunters already on the job were pleased to have met the Winchester brothers either. At best, they'd been barely civil – Sam's opinion, outright hostile – Dean's opinion.

He finished cleaning the shotgun he normally loaded with salt shells and set it aside, laying it gently on the mattress next to his hip. The familiar routine gave him peace and calmed his nerves, kept his hands busy, his mind occupied and his annoyance and irritation over where he _still_ was mostly under control. His beloved handgun, he would clean later at the table because that's where he liked to do it. He picked up a machete and a sharpening stone and began swiping, soon settling into a rhythm that within no time, lulled him to sleep.

***000***

Sam swung the door to the motel room open, juggling a bag of carryout, two cups of coffee and a box of donuts; Dean's favorites – a lame attempt to appease him, for the eldest Winchester was cranky. He expected Dean to meet him at the door and relieve him of his awkward burden but the room remained quiet and still.

Suffering a splurge of irrational panic sparked by the fear that Dean had either left room under his own power or been forcefully dragged, Sam swung his foot wildly and the door slammed shut behind him. Mentally stemming the flow of uncontrolled anxiety and stifling his instinct to drop everything and pull his gun from the back of his jeans, he let his eyes survey the room, finally breathing when he saw Dean sprawled on the bed amidst an array of weapons.

Sam frowned, surprised the slamming door hadn't awakened his, hopefully-only-slumbering sibling then stumbled when panic surged upwards a second time; an array of weapons sharp enough to cut a freaking hand off!

"Dean?" Sam plunked everything on the small table and rushed over to the bed, hands reaching, grabbing, shaking; desperate for proof his brother still breathed. "Dean!"

Dean stirred, mumbling with a snort as his hands sought the pillow. Huffing his relief that Dean was merely asleep and not injured or dead, Sam still felt him up, over and down in search of injury, ignoring Dean's feeble, sleepy attempts to slap his hands away. No bumps, no bruises, two hands, ten fingers, no wounds, no blood – brother all in one piece. Thank God.

"Really Dean? Fall asleep on a machete?" Sam muttered, sending up a thank-you prayer as he removed ALL sharp weapons, guns and assorted cleaning utensils from the bed. "Way to keep giving me a freaking heart attack." you dumb ass, he add silently, for Dean never took kindly to being called names. No siree bob!

"N'im n'okay." the bed now soft and free of impediments, Dean rolled with the pillow and relaxed into the depths of the comforter. "Go'way." but his nose was twitching. "Nat 'offee?"

"Say what?" Sam shed his jacket, booted up his laptop, set Dean's dinner on the counter and sat down at the table to eat his own meal. "Oh, yeah. Coffee."

Dean rolled about, alternating between hugging his pillow and attempting to deny the tantalizing aroma of dinner. If only his nose wasn't connected directly to his stomach. Alas, but it was.

"No cheeseburger?" he rolled over to sprawl on his back, toes wiggling in his socks. Was it worth getting up for something that wasn't a beloved burger? His stomach growled. Okay, so….that'd be a yes.

"Chicken sandwich." distracted, it was a moment or two before Sam replied. "Fried though."

"What are you looking up?" Dean sat up and set his pillow aside. He glanced out the window, huh, dark. What had taken Sam so long to find a restaurant and pick up dinner? What else had the little jerk been doing? And what time was it anyway?

"Nothing." Sam denied quickly. "Just reading. Seeing if, you know, we came up against something like this before."

Dean took a moment then swung his socked feet to the carpeted floor and stood up. "You really think there's something here that needs our attention? Not like the town's being held hostage or infected or whatever."

"It's happened before." Sam said defensively.

Dean sighed. Wow, he knew that tone. Really? Sam wanted to fight now? "I don't think we have to worry about the horseman of War or a demonic virus."

Sam shrugged. "Worth looking into. Something's up. The manner and frequency of the recent deaths on that mountain point towards…"

Dean waved him off with a flick of a limp wrist and padded with a yawn over to the white Styrofoam container that held his dinner. He flipped the top open with a hesitant finger, pleased to find French fries beneath the foil wrapper. He just bet Sam had a grilled chicken breast on whole grain or something with a side salad, probably with spinach.

"What are we doing here Sam?" he asked munching on a fry and pulling a bottle of beer from the mini-fridge. Eat first then enjoy a cup of coffee with a donut or three while watching a rerun of an old Western on cable. That was his plan and a mighty fine plan it was, too. And if Sam dared to interfere with his plan, he'd play the same cassette tape of mullet hair-bands in the car for a month!

"Just thought, you know, maybe we could help."

"Help? Help how? With what? Extra gun? Back-up?" he tasted another fry and made a face. "We got any salt? These need salt. Who makes fries without salt?"

"Knowledge." Sam sighed. "Hell Dean, I dunno, I just….we know shit." he tossed packets of salt at Dean. "Go easy on that, those fries were already salted."

"Don't taste like it." Dean complained. "And those hunters we met when we got here didn't seem too eager for our help." he pointed out, happily over-salting. "In fact, once they learned who we were, they basically told us to go to hell. They don't want anything to do with us."

"Most hunters we've met over the years…."

"Knew us as kids." Dean added grumpily. "We should go, let them handle this. They don't want us here, they say they don't need our help and we should move on."

Sam scowled, but continued undeterred. "Dad pretty much kept us away from other hunters and Bobby don't count." he paused, not missing the murky depths to which Dean's gaze sunk. "New generation Dean….." wow, years, it'd been years since Bobby's…..uh, passing and still…..it hurt.

"And not our problem." Den countered. "We got enough going on Sam, why invite more hatred? They've heard rumors or saw the news, you remember, the massacre at the bank and the diner, or were told an embellished story…..I don't want to deal with it, I don't need to."

"Say what?"

"We aren't exactly the World's Favorite Hunters." Dean continued, munching on crispy chicken breading. "And they don't know what we do, the tablets and…..well….past history and all that. I mean, how many versions of the apocalypse are floating around out here? Who knows the truth?

"You know Dean, that's shit." Sam was instantly defensive, once again tired of having shit constantly thrown in his face. He'd intended to pick a fight but hadn't meant for Dean to go there! Had never dreamed he would! "Enough already. Let it go."

"Just saying, Lilith….."

"Don't." Sam warned, his finger in his brother's face and boy, Dean hated that. He struggled not to slap it away because that would undoubtedly lead to a fist fight and he was just too tired to best Sam. "Don't say it. Don't bring her name up…ever again."

"You started it." Dean argued childishly.

"How did I…...you know what? Never mind. Don't talk about it. Don't….just don't."

Oh, jeesch, was he still rambling on? "You don't think someone will here?" Dean slurped beer from the bottle, licking the foam from his upper lip. "Her name, Ruby, the apocalypse, or opening the devil's gate, Gordon spreading his hate. Should I go on?"

"Years ago Dean, that was all years ago."

"And that's what we know was spread about." Dean ignored the interruption. "Now, there's Cas and uh, well, Gad and Kevin and no Bobby as a go between…"

"You want to get into this shit again? Now? Smash and rehash Dean. It's what we always do and it gets us nowhere." Sam was angry at himself. He'd started this shit, okay, maybe it'd gone too far, and it was on him but Dean always kept pushing.

"Just trying to make you understand being here with other hunters ain't the best place for us. It ain't safe. None of that shit was explained. Not to everyone anyway. Need I bring up that Tracy chick? Remember her? Yeah, thought so. Ain't nothing wrong with helping via the phone."

"Maybe there's a hunter who's new to this game and doesn't hold a grudge. Someone we can help learn the rules." anything Sam, say anything that will throw Dean off his current train of thought before it gets out of hand and becomes a fist fight.

Dean paused, a fry between his teeth, say what? "Learn the rules? What the fuck, Sam? A mentor? Us?" he snorted, rooting through the fries with a finger in search of more mayo. "Sam, come on, really?" he paused again, what the hell was he up to now? It was going to take some further thinking, just not now.

"What's so wrong with that?" Sam growled defensively. He so did not want to be having this conversation. How come something he wanted to do always ended up being the wrong argument? Oh yeah, right, because you're lying and sneaking behind your brother's back, his mind taunted. Traitor.

Dean frowned, for the first time realizing Sam was serious, and just how serious gave Dean a reckoning. "Okay, sure, I get that Sam, I do and that's not such a bad idea…..but not here. There are too many hunters out there with prior knowledge – most of it false – and they hold a grudge. They're prejudice against you. Again, hello Tracy? Hell, they probably got it against both of us and why the hell would I want to deal with attitude? Why should I have to?"

"Not all of them." Sam said mildly. His emotions reeled in and his original goal within his grasp, he was able to continue the conversation and not blow up. "Didn't think you'd be so against this. You wanted a hunt….I found you one."

"How many of them are here? Ten?"

"What? No!" Sam scowled. "Five."

"Just saying Sam, we can't watch them all. There's gonna be a time when our back is turned or exposed and can we count on everyone not to stick a knife it? Or risk their lives to protect ours?" nope, no packs of hiding mayo – bummer. "One snide comment too many and my fists will do the talking. You know that."

"And you think it's easier for me? You're right, we don't know who knows what or who believes what, but I don't think anyone is out to stab us in the back." Sam paused. "And yeah, I mean that literally."

"And that's a chance you're willing to take. Me? Not so much."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Sam demanded. "Are you saying I'd willingly risk your life?" so much for having control of his emotions. Man, Dean knew just what buttons to push.

"Anything can happen to me at any time Sam." Dean pointed out, finishing the last fry. "It's life, it's our life and there's no changing it." he balled the wrapper from the chicken sandwich with the foil from the fries and a napkin. "You've lost me before, probably will again. Hell, you've left me and let me go, so don't stand on some soap box and preach." he tossed the ball of trash into the trashcan. "You land on your feet, find someone, always do. I just don't want to meet another untimely end at the hands of green, wet-behind-the ears hunters."

"Wow." Sam pushed his salad away, appetite gone. "Way to say, fuck you Sam." he paused, trying hard to let it go, but nope, couldn't do it. "Leave you? Find someone?" his fists clenched and he forced himself to remain seated. "How well did I do the first time I lost you, huh Dean? Tell me! You sure as hell weren't shy about it back then. Oh, right, yeah…..I only set the end of the world in motion. Full speed ahead, no stops. No big deal, right?" he got up to dump the remainder of his meal in the trash. "Until…..Lilith, I never had to face a life – the world – without you in it. She could have let you go, she could have…but she didn't and I can't forget that. It's something I will never forget either, no matter who it was, no matter the reason. So shut the fuck up."

"Where are you going?" Dean asked when Sam reached for his jacket. "Sam, come on."

"Out."

"To do what? Chill out dude, you just got back. Have a beer and we'll watch an old Western that's coming on." that was Dean extending both an apology and an olive branch. Huh, apparently not enough. "We'll meet up with the Scooby gang in the morning, see what's going on." he pulled Sam's laptop around. "Happy?"

Sam caved like he always did, mission accomplished. He hated picking fights with his brother and goading him into a confrontation neither wanted to face but he got the result he'd sought. He needed time alone and Dean would go to sleep - movie forgotten - to avoid the possibility of further arguing.

"Whatever." he went into the bathroom for a hot shower. He got it, he did. Dean did not want to be there. Oh, he'd been all hot and horny for a hunt, one he'd thought would test their limits, expend energy and give him a chance to work out some aggression, depression, hostilities and god only knew what else. But all that had changed when they'd arrived in town and found a group of hunters already on the case. A group of hunters who all knew one other and hadn't been eager to greet the brothers.

One brief meeting, okay sure, there'd been some curt words, hostile looks, sneering attitude and not-so-subtle innuendo's, and Dean had been ready to U-turn and high-tail it right out of town. Hell, he'd flat-out refused to even do further research on the case. It'd taken pouts and sullen moods to stop Dean from leaving town.

Sam shed his jeans and adjusted the water. Sam had risked arguing, but the verbal fight had taken an ugly turn he hadn't expected – Lilith. Yet another calculated decision that had bitten him in the ass. Dean wasn't exactly in the best state of mind these days and pushing him wouldn't end well for anyone. Sam should pack up and let Dean drive them out of town, but one of the hunters already on the job was the reason Sam had arrived to join the hunt. The kid, having met him the previous night, was full of piss-ass attitude and he was going to get himself killed hunting with a group of hunters who didn't put safety first.

And Sam needed him alive…..for he wanted answers. The kid had information Sam sought and Sam didn't care if his ulterior motive for joining the hunt became known. A hunt Sam cared nothing about. He didn't care about the job, the hunters, the danger or the outcome of the hunt. Nope, he was here for one reason and one reason only.

To find the hunter who had shot his brother in the shoulder several weeks ago.

He just needed to keep that from Dean, 'cause if dear ole big brother figured out what Sam was up to before Sam had what he needed, there'd be hell to pay…..again. Dean was hazy about that day, that hunt, being shot and Sam had brushed him off, claiming he didn't know exactly what happened either and Dean had been content to let it go. But not Sam. Oh, hell no, never Sam. He knew exactly what happened and he'd never forget.

His brother had been shot by another hunter, albeit accidently…but that didn't matter to Sam. The injury had been minor….but that didn't matter to Sam. Dean had healed as good as new…..but that didn't matter to Sam. No, Sam had quietly and patiently bided his time, searching and tracking all the while letting Dean believe it was done, settled, and over with.

Not while Sam still drew breath.

When he emerged from the bathroom, just as Sam had planned, Dean was in bed and asleep. Good, because Sam had more reading and researching to do before the hunt in the morning and he did not want to have to explain to Dean why. It was close to midnight when he quietly got dressed, mouth curling into an affection grin when Dean mumbled about the light being too bright. He waited half an hour to ensure Dean once again slept soundly, then left the motel room. To complete his research, he was forced to make a middle-of-the night run to pick up an odd thing or two. He was gone maybe an hour before he returned and finally fell into his own bed for a couple hours of sleep.

Dean mumbled about Sam not enjoying the movie but didn't wake up.


	2. Chapter 2

How did he let himself get talked into shit like this? He didn't want to be here, had no good reason to be where he was and wondered why he continually allowed himself to be talked into doing shit he didn't want to do by a sniveling brother who always got his way!

He groused, kicking at rocks. Okay, that wasn't fair. He could have flat-out refused and there was nothing Sam could have done to make him come. Truth be told, he'd been looking forward to beating on some fugly and…he frowned, wait, was that rock rolling and bouncing back at him? It was! He brought his head up, and stopped to look around. Oh, hell, the trail had started to steadily incline...that meant...he was going uphill. Well shit, he'd had no freaking clue Sam was leading him up a mountain! Way to pay attention and get yourself killed, Dean old boy.

Sighing, he shifted the weight on the bag slung over his shoulder and moved on. Ow. He hid the wince and concentrated on keeping his step even. A suspicious Sam was a dangerous Sam and if he got an inkling Dean's shoulder was twinging, he'd be subjected to Dr. Sam's bare-all humiliating examination in the middle of the wilderness.

Yeah, in front of these two newbies, Dean snorted, tripping over a root, not gonna happen. As far as he could tell, this group of five hunters knew one other, had hunted separately, in pairs, in threes, and as a group. Sam had quickly attached himself to the youngest of the group. Why? A mentor? Odd. Help the 'youth' along? Doubtful. Teach them the rules? Hardly.

No, there was another reason, another motive and if his shoulder wasn't thumping along with the beat of his heart, giving him a headache, he'd care enough to figure it out. Sam was sneaky and manipulative, but only when he had Dean's best interests at heart or thought he knew best. Course, Dean could be sneaky and manipulative as well when he wanted – needed – to be.

The hunters, who they'd had the dubious pleasure of meeting as a group yesterday, hadn't been thrilled to see them arrive at the entrance to the hiking trail that morning at daybreak. They hadn't willingly shared their information either but once it became evident the brothers would not be going away, they'd grudgingly shared their plan. And based on what little information they'd shared, it was a stupid plan. Dean knew it, Sam knew it, Dean knew Sam knew it and yet, here he was, tromping on an ill-used path up the side of a mountain. Dean suspected Sam had a plan of his own, but this group of hunters wasn't the type to listen to advice or take being told they were wrong well, let alone losing lead on this job.

He sighed, whacking a branch out of his way.

Power, strength, authority, and leadership; that's what made him a damn good hunter and a formidable foe, and yet here he was, stomping uphill on a chilly, windy day with an aching head and twinging shoulder, following blindly because he didn't care enough to take an active role in the hunt. His usual instinct to take charge, to lead, to make a plan, to understand exactly what they were doing, where they were going, and what they were hunting, was tucked away on this hunt, safely secure in the knowledge Sam knew everything they needed to know – even if the jerk wouldn't admit it. Although, he paused, he still failed to understand why Sam was so hell bent on going on this hunt; why he was content to join and follow and not question another hunters order.

Dean stumbled and drew up short, mentally smacking his head. He kicked himself as realization barreled into him: Sam would never willingly or knowingly wade head first into trouble unprepared or risk Dean's life by doing so blindly. No, Sam knew exactly what was going on. That was why he hadn't argued or protested or disagreed when the self-elected 'leader' of the group announced his plan to split up and send the unwanted Winchester's off with the less-experienced-newbies of the group on what was undoubtedly a wild goose chase.

And….huh, not only had Sam instantly agreed to split up, he'd accepted the decision to be pawned off on the youngest, most inexperienced duo of the group without comment, almost gleefully, like he'd wanted to be alone with them. Now that there was just plain weird, for as much of the hunt and plan Dean had bothered to absorb, the action was where the other three hunters had dispersed to. It was like Sam had no interest in the hunt...almost like his interest was in...these two hunters.

"Dean, come on." Sam called impatiently. "Step it up."

Dean flipped him off but he didn't pick up his pace, in no hurry to get where they were going; which apparently, was up the side of a mountain in search of some ancient Native American burial ground. Oh yeah, like Dean was going to set foot on sacred ground and disturb it in anyway. Now, where was he...oh right, now what was it about these two wanna-be-hunters that interested Sam?

Sam let Dean trudge on at his own pace. He well knew how Dean felt about being on a job with other hunters they weren't taking lead on. Let him pout and drag his feet. Sam didn't care about the hunt anyway and once he got the information he sought, he'd invent some excuse or cause a fight or fake an injury and they'd all return to their cars without ever setting foot on the burial grounds.

"So, fairly new to hunting, huh." Sam remarked.

"Huh." the two young hunters exchanged a glance between them. "What makes you say that?" the more outspoken of the two asked.

"So, ah…..Billy, right?" his target. "How'd you meet up with Nate and the others?" he referred to the other three hunters who, while on the same hunt, had gone in a different direction. He chatted easily, leading the conversation to territory he wanted it to go. He merely took his time getting there, not wanting to raise any suspicions he was actively seeking another hunter they knew. "Yeah? So, do you always hunt with Nate or have you hunted with others?"

"Learning a lot from Nate." Billy said. "He used to hunt with a guy who's retired now. Old dude taught him a lot."

"Old dude? Our dad knew a lot of hunters back in the day. Most have passed on though. Father Jim, Bobby Singer, Rufus, Travis and Martin…." he trailed off, waiting to see if any names would be volunteered. "Retired? Not dead?"

"Yeah, everyone knew Bobby Singer. Dunno, think maybe O'Riley's old enough to have taught him a thing or two." Billy said. "And yeah, he's still alive. He no longer hunts but he still helps out with research, you know? He knows his shit. You call him up, he'll tell you everything he knows about whatever you're calling him about."

"Tanner O'Riley?" Sam said. "Hell, I know him…haven't seen him in ages. He's still alive, huh?" and he should know that, would if he and Dean didn't deliberately isolate themselves as much as possible from the active hunting world.

"Yeah, he's holed up in Nebraska."

And he wouldn't be hard to find, Sam mused, hell, he bet he even had the old man's number.

"…..since Garth…."

"Wait." Sam shook his head. How had the conversation gone from O'Riley to Garth? "Garth went and got married. He doesn't have anything to do with the hunting world anymore."

"No." Craig, Billy's sidekick spoke up. "We used to call him, now we call O'Riley when we come up against something that has us stumped."

The conversation went on. Sam asked a few questions, gave some answers and eventually brought the conversation around to recent hunts.

"We heard about a haunting out in Ames, Iowa, a couple weeks back." Sam said casually. "But before we got there, we heard from the local Sheriff that the case had been settled. One of you guys?"

"No." Billy said. "Probably Dom."

"Dom?" giddy, Sam kept his tone casual. "Haven't heard of him."

"Yeah, he's known as Junior, but he hates that name. His dad's a hunter too but they don't get along so well." Craig said. "He likes to take on cases that are known spirits and ghosts. His favorite job, dunno why."

"Huh." Sam already knew that, hence why he was there. He hadn't expected to actually find the laying-low hunter but thought to meet hunters who knew him and would have information about him. "You'd think he'd be here." he swiveled his head around to make sure Dean was still lagging behind. "You know, what with a haunted spirit and all being suspected here."

"Kinda surprised he's not. I know Nate called him but guess he didn't get in touch." Billy said. "Come to think of it, dunno when I last heard from him."

"Better than a month, I'd say." Craig said. "He's probably laid-up somewhere with a busted leg or something and too embarrassed for anyone to know."

Not yet, said Sam silently, but soon. Damn soon. Broken leg, broken arm - at the elbow, broken wrist - opposite arm, broken jaw, broken ribs - plural, smashed toes, ten broken fingers, see how well he wiped his ass with both hands in a cast. Oh yeah, Sam had it all planned out.

"Yeah." Billy was saying. "He's a known hot head. Charges in all hopped on his know-it-all-ego. O'Riley goes way back with Dom's old man, so he took Dom under his wing, you know? Since he and his Dad are on the outs."

"How much further?" Dean called from behind. "I'm hungry."

Now having information he needed – pay a visit to Tanner O'Riley in Nebraska – Sam was willing to call it quits on this ill-advised, waste-of-time hunt. Let the hot-headed-we-don't-need-no-help-Nate-led group of hunters handle the problem that probably wasn't even on the sacred burial grounds. Not even God knew what protected those graves and no matter how much research and studying of lore Sam did, it would never be enough. There were undoubtedly more talismans and amulets and totem poles then he knew about and no shortage of spells protecting those grounds and he had no intention of setting foot on them or allowing his brother to do so either.

The answer to solving the recent deaths did not lie on this mountain. And Sam strongly suspected that Nate was well aware of that.

"Me too." Craig pulled up and slung his backpack to the ground. "Could go for a sandwich."

"Don't mind him, he's always hungry." Sam said. "But sure, I'll check the map." and devise a convenient fall over a log resulting in a slightly sprained ankle, that while minor, would be too painful to continue on, requiring Dean to help him back to the car. It wouldn't do anything to prove to the other hunters their abilities to do the job but Sam never intended to cross paths with them again. He'd do his best to convince Billy and Craig to return with them, but he wasn't going to put a gun to their head and force them. If they didn't understand Sam's perfectly reasonable explanation of why they shouldn't disturb ancient Native American burial grounds, then their stupidity was their problem, not Sam's.

Already munching on a granola bar, Dean plopped his ass on the ground beside Sam who was perched on a fallen tree log, map across his lap. He guessed Dean assumed he was looking for the burial site, plotting easiest access, when in fact he was plotting the shortest course back to the car.

"You hear that?" Dean asked after a moment. "Sam? Hey." he smacked Sam's knee. "Yo, dude."

"What? Do I hear what?" Sam brought his head up to drink from a bottle of water. "I don't hear anything."

"Yeah, nothing." Dean replied quietly. "Not a cricket, not a tree frog, not a bird. There's not even a breeze. Do you see a leaf moving? We should get out of here Sam. We don't belong here."

"We're good." Sam huffed absently, focused on the map. "Shush."

"We shouldn't be here." Dean stressed. "We don't enough about what we're hunting Sam." he paused, stretching his back and sitting up straighter. "Or do we?" he peeked at the map but Sam folded it up. "Sam. Why are we here?"

"You're right." Sam capped the water and shoved it back into his bag along with the map. "Let's go back."

"That's it?" Dean questioned. "Just like that? We leave? What about the Bobbsey Twins?"

"What about them?" Sam shrugged. "I'll tell them the truth. Nate sent them up here on a false trail to keep us occupied. They can either go back with us or go on without us. Their choice. And yes, I will warn them about the dangers of trespassing on that land."

"What the hell is up with you?" Dean studied him, his look calculating as he weighed the situation. "What's going on Sam? You think Nate would send them up here into danger like that?"

"No. I doubt he knows about the burial site. He probably thinks it's just an old cemetery. It didn't take me long to realize they don't rely on research."

"We can't just leave them up here."

"What's your problem now?" Sam asked impatiently. "You want to go back, I say we'll go back and you're pissed!"

"I don't know why we're even here." Dean argued. "Mentor? You? To those two?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Really? You aren't making any sense Sam. If you knew this hike was bogus, why are we here?"

"You're whining has taken any peace I found and crushed it, so fine, let's go."

"Just like that?"

"Yup."

Dean pushed to his feet. "I haven't figured you out yet, but I will. You're up to something and when I…..." he stopped. "Where are dumb and dumber? Where'd they go? Sam, where are they?"

"Hello, I dunno. They were right there eating a hoagie." he sighed. This wasn't going as planned. "Billy! Craig!" Sam yelled. "Hey, catch up!"

"You see? This is why I don't want anything to do with hunting with other hunters. I don't want the responsibility and now we gotta waste time looking for them."

"Yo! Guys!" Sam shouted, turning in a complete circle, searching for their trail. "HEY!"

"What do you know about this hunt Sam? Whose burial grounds are these? Which tribe? And don't give me no shit. I know you know or we wouldn't have come out here."

"You don't need to worry about it." Sam snapped. "I got us covered. The grave they seek isn't up here."

"Then why the fuck are we?" Dean cut in, tone dripping with disgust. "Sam, what bug you got up your ass now? What the fuck are you up to?"

"...and I never had any intention of disturbing those grounds." Sam continued irritably. "Guys! Come on, quit screwing around!"

"Sam!" Dean warned. "Not in the mood. What are we up against if we go on those grounds and disturb those graves? And when did you find all this out?"

"We're not going to dig up any graves." Sam informed him. "And I researched it last night while you watched your movie….oh, that's right, you fell asleep."

"So, this land is protected by spirit wards. Nice." Dean announced, shaking his head. "With what?"

"Poison." Sam admitted. "The way to avoid being…"

"Why are we here Sam?"

It all happened so fast, Sam couldn't remember the order of events that rocked his world. He'd never intended for anyone to get hurt and later, much as he wanted to lay blame, if it were anyone's fault, it was mostly his own. He had a one-track mind when it came to Dean and everyone else ceased to exist. He hadn't paid close attention to Billy or Craig and had lost track of what direction they'd take themselves off in.

He added Nate to the list of those who most needed a serious beat-down.

Before he could react, Dean ran around and past him, and with a flying leap, crashed mid-air into Billy, a tackle so hard, it took them both to the ground, preventing any more digging. But it was too late. The sky darkened and the air whipped and swirled, soon howling as leafs on the ground spun in frenzy. The air sparked, lighting up as bright as exploding fireworks and branches on the trees twisted and danced, twigs became fingers, reaching, clawing….grabbing. The force of the sudden wind drove Sam backwards and he dropped to all fours, crawling forward and reaching for his brother's ankles in a desperate attempt to drag him away from the disturbed ground.

"What's going on?" Billy shouted, staggering to his feet, Dean held to the ground by Sam's hold on his ankles. "Craig!" not having Sam's prior knowledge of what they were dealing with, neither Billy nor Dean knew to stay as close to the ground as possible and Billy was thrown off his feet by an unseen force. He landed on his back with a thud and he didn't move again.

Sam put the two young hunters out of his mind and concentrated on dragging his brother from the danger the ancient grounds presented. He'd not only studied the map while they'd been taking a break, he'd sought out symbols carved into trees and on rocks. The grounds might be centuries old, but not all the marked trees were. That meant descendants of the original tribes kept the burial site protected and their charms and spells were strong.

"STAY DOWN!" he ordered, yelling to be heard over the howling wind. He tightened his hold on Dean and tugged but Dean had grabbed Billy and refused to let go. The combined weight of two grown men was too much for Sam to drag. "DEAN! LET GO."

"I've GOT him!" Dean yelled back. "What the FUCK's going on?"

"They violated a ward! Stay as LOW as you can!" Sam scrabbled and scrambled, wiggling Dean backwards. He began to chant, and though the winds subsided, they didn't completely abate. The air and earth around them somewhat settled but failed to go completely silent, still it was enough for Sam to gain precious ground.

Dean knew when to obey Sam and he did so now, scooting backwards on his belly with the strength of Sam's pull. Billy was a limp, dead weight but Dean refused to let go. After what felt like an eternity but in reality was a mere moment, Billy was abandoned on the grass and Dean was sprawled in Sam's arms and Sam was having a hard time letting go.

"You ok? Let me see! Lemme….dammit Dean….did you break…..you did…which one? What ward did you break? It's important! Tell me! Did you see anything? What did you see?" frantic, Sam urgently felt his brother up, down, and over, resisting Dean's half-hearted attempt to pull free. "Dean! Did you see anything?" he fired the questions rapidly, not pausing to allow Dean time to answer. "Are you hurt? Dean talk to me, it's important."

Instead of answering, Dean ceased trying to pull away and slumped in Sam's arms, letting his head bob against his brother's shoulder.

"SHIT! DEAN!"


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey, here…..Dean…hey, hey, come on…..that's it. Hey." Sam pulled a flask from his pocket and uncapped it with his teeth. "Here, take a drink….no, no…don't turn away, come on." he used his chin to hold Dean's head still. "Come on, take a drink…..okay….good, you're good." he pulled another flask from a different pocket and splashed its contents in Dean's face, allowing him to duck his head and wipe his cheek on Sam's sleeve.

"I am?" Dean coughed and spit and hacked then coughed some more. "The…..fuck? Not…possessed, dumb…..ass." he saw no immediate need to move, so he didn't. "Ow!" he moaned pitifully. "Shit." man, he was feeling his age if one tackle to the ground caused him to feel like this.

"The wards protecting the burial grounds were violated. The spirits are angry and lashing out, hence the sudden weather. You have to tell me what you saw so I can determine which ward was broken and offer …."

"Big ole bird." Dean finally sat up, wavered a bit then collapsed against a strong, warm shoulder that never faltered in its support. "Oye."

"Take it easy." Sam murmured, all sense of urgency focused only on his brother. "I've got you." he took a moment to revel in Dean allowing him to hold tight. "What kind of bird? An owl? An eagle? Billy? Hey, you…." the woods once again burst with activity, but this time it was created by man and Nate and the other two hunters emerged at a run. "Fuck." Sam seethed, holding Dean a little tighter.

"What the hell's going on? What the hell did you let happen?" Nate demanded angrily, yelling to be heard. "The whole side of the mountain dusted up! How stupid are you? I thought you Winchesters knew all and everything!"

"Really? Now's not the time." Sam spat tersely. He juggled Dean to a sitting position but kept an arm around his shoulders. "The bird Dean…..tell me about the bird."

"Eagle." Dean managed to sputter, arms holding his stomach. "Nufff-ff-ff."

"Really? You're bird-watching?" Luke exclaimed in astonishment. "Billy's knocked seven ways unconscious and all you're worried about is _what bloody bird he saw_? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!"

Sam rose to his feet, his brother, still coughing up a lung, sprawled protectively between his legs, and confronted the trio. "Seems like you got a problem with me." his hands fisted but he forced himself to relax. "Find a way to stow it, 'cause we got bigger issues than your nose being out of joint."

"Recon!" Nate yakked, extending an arm to keep Luke from stepping forward and meeting Sam's confrontation. "Do you not understand what that means? You weren't supposed to dig up anything! I made myself clear! What the hell's the matter with you? Don't you know what sacred, ancient Native American burial grounds means?"

"Nate, Billy ain't waking up!" Ronnie called urgently. "Let it go and help me."

"Oh yeah, I know." Sam said, voice dangerously low. So, Nate _had_ known! If Dean wasn't actively searching for his breath, and had he seen the need, he might have warned Nate about incoming typhoon Sammy. "DO THEY? Did you tell **_THEM_**?" he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards Billy's inert form. "Seems they didn't get your memo. Or maybe they ignored it."

"And you knew better?" Nate sneered. "Oh right, yeah, I forgot, the all-oh-so-mighty-Winchesters know everything about everything."

"We _didn't_ dig up anything because I know _everything_ about this so-called hunt and _why _we're up here, so what _exactly_ are you saying, Nate?" Sam took a step closer, one eye on Dean. "You got something you want to say to me?"

"Nate, what do we do about Billy? He needs help, we gotta help him! How do we do that?" Luke was yammering in the background.

"Saying you and your brother ain't such the hot-shots." Nate countered right back, matching tone for tone with Sam. "And maybe you ain't as smart as everyone says you are and he ain't as tough."

"You're a dick." Sam said simply. "That all you got? 'Cause let me tell you….."

"Tell me what? Huh? What you got to say, college boy? Enlighten me, since you know-oh-so-much."

"You sent us up here with for no other purpose then to get us out of your way. Way to go Nate, it's a hunt, not a competition. The winner doesn't take home a trophy."

"Need me to spell it out for you?" Nate sneered. "Never understood the hype about you two and I wanted to see how smart and good you really were. All you were supposed to do was hike up here and visually look for graves. I gave you a map that clearly marked the boundaries of…."

"Nate! Billy ain't waking up! What do we do?!" Luke's voice pitched towards frantic. "Come on Nate, little help here!"

"You even say this was our fault, and you won't walk out of here." Sam had had enough and geared up for a fight. "You sent those two off on a wild goose chase without fully informing them what they there walking into. That's on you!"

"I sent them off with you." Nate wasn't backing down. "You're supposed to be some brainy know-it-all lore expert."

"We ain't babysitters. Goes to show they ain't ready to hunt if they don't know to research the job before they embark on it." Sam shot back. "Fully prepared is fully armed. What, you think I trusted you?! I knew exactly what was up here…..they crossed the boundaries and started to dig. They're stupid, stupid for trusting you and for not knowing to research this hunt on their own before coming out here." somehow, he'd advanced further on Nate and farther away from Dean and he took a step backwards, intending to retreat to once again stand over Dean.

"Hey! Where's Craig?"

"And you did." Nate said scornfully, side-stepping and circling around to block Sam. "Where you going? No one is leaving here until I get some answers and we find out what happened to Craig."

"Damn right." Sam stated. He'd never lead Dean into a hunt blindly, no matter his reasons for going on it in the first place. "So, tell me Nate, how much research did you do? Huh? You have any idea how to find Craig? He broke the wards, not us."

"Oh, yeah? Then why is oh-so-Mr. High-and-Mighty all doubled up, rolling around on the ground like a woman with cramps?" Nate taunted. "You're all quick to place blame. If you knew all so much and can do wrong, why didn't you warn them? Huh? How did the wards get broken? Oh, that's right, you do what you want and damn the consequences. Someone gets hurt or killed, oh well, long as the Winchesters get the job done."

"Wow. You wanna go there? Really?"

"Yeah, maybe I do."

"You set us up." Sam announced flatly. "Sent us up here thinking we'd come in blind. Risk your friends to prove what? You're a better hunter? Really?"

"Knock you off your self-proclaimed pedestal. Show maybe you and your brother aren't the hunters everyone says you are – well." he paused, waving a hand over Dean. "Not everyone says so. Guess you ain't, seeing as how Dean can't even sit up…"

"Nate! Some help here!"

"Prove you ain't really nothing but a fuck-up and Gordon was right or Tim, that time when you refused to hunt demons. Why's that Sam? Maybe 'cause you're one of them? Or sympathize with them. Huh? Or maybe because you went and banged…"

Sam swung, Nate not expecting a solidly landed right hook to the jaw, was knocked off balance but the fistfight was on. Sam hadn't grown up sparring with Dean for nothing and he sought the other man's weakness so he could take the advantage. If winning required fighting dirty, Dean was worth it. Sam did not like Nate commenting on Dean's vulnerability or blocking his retreat to Dean's side. Knowing Nate knew Dean's safety depended on Sam, enraged the protective streak the younger brother normally buried deep.

"Nate! He's right, now's not the time." the other two hunters quickly intervened and separated the two, forcefully dragging Nate away. "Something's wrong with Billy and we don't see Craig anywhere."

"Sam." Dean was sitting up, though still doubled over. He'd caught his breath but had yet to figure out what to do with it. "Ohhhhh—oh-ohhhhhh." he moaned, coughing. "OW!"

That one word was enough. Sam dabbed the blood from his lip with the back of his hand – courtesy of Nate's one and only punch – and returned to kneel beside his brother, who, having called Sam back to his side, slumped to the ground.

"You're ok, just breathe." Sam coached. "Breathe Dean."

"M'me...try...ing." he wheezed. "Hard...to...ow…..hurts."

"Bastard broke my nose!" Nate exclaimed. "And a tooth!" he spat out blood. "I'm gonna kill him!"

"ENOUGH!" Ronnie, Sam remembered, roared. "We don't have time for this! If we have to work with them to help Billy and find Craig, then suck it up and do it!"

And, thought Sam, this is why hunting in groups rarely works. You need absolute, complete trust in your hunting partners and that was a rare thing in their world.

"What's wrong with him?" Ronnie came to stand in front of Sam and pointed at Billy. "Why's he unconscious and your brother isn't? And what happened to Craig? Where is he?"

"Billy's a pansy." Sam said sourly. "And Craig broke the wards." Sam found his backpack and rooted through it until he removed a green canteen. "Dean knocked Billy out of the way and took the hit."

"Okay, fine, they were stupid. How do we help them?" Ronnie asked impatiently. "Dean's at least awake, so guessin' he's gonna be okay, but what about Billy?"

"What's your name again?" Sam asked. "Ronnie, right?" he stepped around Nate and the other hunter who Sam thought responded to the name Luke and stood over Billy's yet-to-move body.

"Do we dig and salt and burn all these graves?" Ronnie asked, briefly wondering why Sam was now ignoring Dean. "That's gonna take some time. We don't..."

Alarmed, Sam yelped. "HELL NO!" he gulped at the thought. They'd all be dead, casualties of a mudslide or some other made-to-look like accident of nature. "We aren't going to disturb anything." he twisted the lid off the canteen.

"We tried that." Ronnie didn't move to stop him because he assumed Sam was going to attempt to wake Billy up and offer him a drink from the canteen. "Hey!" he yelped, springing forward, when Sam, still standing next to Billy, tipped the canteen and let a steady stream of its contents splash over Billy's face. "What are you doing?!"

Testing to see if he's ever going to wake up, Sam said silently. The water in the canteen was from the town's water fountain outside the Native American owned casino whose ancestors these burial grounds were. Oh yeah, he'd done his research alright. But he was a Winchester, born to stubbornness and raised by Dean, he wasn't going to share anything more than he had to with this group.

Alerted by Ronnie's outburst, Nate drew a gun and aimed it at Sam's head. "Stop what you're doing." Nate ordered. "I ain't gonna say it again."

Sam didn't spare an eye for Nate, but he did slant his look to see what the third member of Nate's little group was doing. "Stay away from him." Sam ordered Luke when he made a move to approach Dean. "You take one more step in his direction and you won't have that foot to stand on ten seconds from now."

Luke hesitated, shooting a glance at Nate for further direction. "Big talk from a man armed with a canteen of water when I've got a gun on him." Nate retorted. "I'm a damn good shot, he ain't gonna do nuthin' to you."

Despite Nate's assurances, Luke warily backed-up, eyes searching Sam from head to toe, half expecting the unpredictable hunter to produce either a machete or an ax from the depths of his coat or jeans and indeed, whack off his foot.

"Go ahead, blow my head off." Sam challenged. Nate didn't waver and his finger twitched. "Thanks to my brother, you know, the woman with cramps, Billy failed to actually dig." Sam said sarcastically. "He wakes up and tells me what he saw, I'll know whether or not it's worth your time looking for your buddy, but I'm sure you know all that, so go ahead, end my days."

"What's he saying?" Luke asked Nate. "He's not making sense. Do you understand him?"

"You fond of both knees?" Dean asked. He was in a huddled heap on the ground, holding his own .45. "See how well you walk out of here with only one."

"Yeah." Nate finally lowered the gun. "I do." well, that explained why Sam wasn't freaking out over Dean. Whatever seeing an eagle meant apparently told Sam that Dean was in no immediate danger. And apparently he wasn't, for he was suddenly able to speak coherently, pull a gun and hold it steady.

"Well, I don't." Ronnie snapped. "What the hell's going on around here!?"

Sam splashed more water and Billy finally flailed, coughing up both lungs. Sam recapped the canteen and went to his knees, pulling Billy off the ground by the front collar of his coat. "What did you see?" he gave the younger man several hard shakes. "Billy, hey….talk to me. No…no…..breathe later…..talk…." he slapped Billy's hands down when he tried to press them against his chest. "Yeah, yeah, I know…..it's called panic and it'll pass. I can help you, but you need to tell me what you saw."

Billy tried to speak; his mouth moved, his tongue worked but his attempt to form words was garbled. Sam relented and gave him some water to drink, though not from the green canteen.

"What did you see?" Sam asked pointedly. "Come on, pull it together. Talk to me. What did you see?"

"Smoke….no, clouds, lotsa clouds." Billy gasped and sputtered. "Big...clouds."

"What about a bear? Or a buffalo? A fish, maybe?" Sam pressed ruthlessly. "Did you see an animal? Billy! Hey…hey, come on….an elk?"

"Clow….ddds." Billy was being strangled and it took both Ronnie and Nate to break Sam's hold on the man's jacket for Sam to realize his tight hold was choking him. "Saw…..cl…cl…cl….ow!"

"A bird, maybe?" Sam pushed. "An eagle? Billy! Hey! A crow? Or maybe an owl?"

"Fluff….fee, clo…w…ds." Billy's eyes rolled, his lids fluttered and he was rendered incapable of saying anything more.

"That's enough." Nate ordered, breaking Sam's hold completely. "You're done."

Sam allowed Nate to push him away and grabbed his backpack. He dug and pawed and eventually pulled out a dusty, musty-smelling book with yellowed pages and a moldy binding that was neither paper nor hard-cover. Ronnie just watched him, unsure what to do. Now that Sam knew what both affected men had seen, a bird and clouds – he knew what ritual to say.

"What're you doing?" Ronnie asked. "I don't like not knowing what's going on." he stepped away from Billy. "What was so special about that water? What kind of water was it? Where'd you get it? What are you saying? What's that book? How do you know this shit?"

"It's water from the town fountain outside the casino." Sam eventually answered.

"What does it do?" Ronnie persisted.

"Don't ask." Dean wheezed. He was sitting up, fingers splayed against the ground to support his weight, gun beneath his palm, finger still on the trigger. Ow, his chest hurt. Maybe he'd hurt something after all. "Trust him, it's what he does." he swallowed, his throat thick. A burning sensation blossomed out from his chest until he was shivering. "Sammy? Something ain't right." he groped with his other hand for something solid to hold onto.

"What's the big deal about birds?" Ronnie pushed, wanting answers. "Or clouds? I don't get it."

"It's called research." Sam snapped, bending over to remove the gun from Dean's grasp. Straightening, he allowed Dean to grab hold of his jeans near his knee. "It's what you do before a hunt. It's what you and your ass-wipe partners should have done." he gave Dean's shoulder a pat. "Sssh-shush, I'm on it…..you'll be okay." he ignored the others and began reading from the book he held in one hand.

"Craig?" Luke was saying, when Sam finished reading and put away the book. "Craig? Where's Craig?! CRAIG?"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sam demanded. "Keep your voice down!"

"Craig's missing." Luke stated as though Sam wasn't well aware of that. "And what difference does it make how loud I am?"

Sam muttered something that wasn't discernable and that added to Luke's rising panic. He wanted someone to listen to him but Sam was once again entirely focused on his brother and didn't even acknowledge Craig's absence and Nate and Ronnie were occupied with Billy. No one paid him any attention so he ceased blabbing and took off at a run in the direction Billy and Craig had been digging.

He never made it.

He was tackled to the ground with enough force, he ate dirt. He hadn't been tackled with just the intent to stop him from going where he was headed; no, he was tackled in anger…..blunt, unrestricted anger. He was jerked by the back of his neck and flung across the clearing, well away from the line that separated safe ground from burial grounds. He landed with a thud that shook the very earth.

"You make another stupid move like that again and I will chain you to a tree and leave you here." Sam turned his back on him and returned to the side of his brother. "If you're lucky, your pals here won't desert you and will eventually pick the lock. Dean, we gotta get outta here." Sam collected Dean's gun, the green canteen, the book and stuffed them into his bag. "The spirits are angry and my offering won't appease them for long. They want us off this mountain and we need to find shelter before they let loose with weather the likes of which we've never seen before."

"What? They gonna chase us?" Nate scoffed. "How far you gonna run?" he shook his head. "No. No. We're not leaving without Craig. He has to be here somewhere." he gazed at the disturbed ground across the invisible boundary Sam apparently knew not to cross. "You know so much, tell us where Craig is. Tell us what to do for Billy."

"Smack him. There's nothing wrong with him." Sam said tersely. He shrugged into his backpack, slung Dean's over his shoulder and helped Dean to his feet. He waited but Dean failed to gain his balance. "He hit his head when Dean slammed him to the ground…..and no, Dean didn't slam his head so don't even start. Dean…..hey….I'm right here. Give up and let me help you."

"How do you know where the boundary is?" Ronnie asked. "I mean, how do you know how far to go? Or not go? There's nothing to tell anyone."

"I brought my own map." Sam got a good grip on Dean. "There're markers, just gotta know what to look for."

"But these grounds, these graves, have been here for hundreds of years." Ronnie said. "People cross these lands all the time and no harm comes to anyone. Why now?"

"Intent to disturb a grave." Sam replied. "They...the spirits protecting these burial grounds….." he pointed to the threatening sky, a sky that growled and rumbled, temporarily held at bay by his chant. "They…...know. Dean, you ready?"

"We gotta help Craig! We gotta look for him." Luke frowned. "We can't just leave him out here! Where'd he go? Who took him? Do you know? DO YOU?"

"We don't have time to look for him." Sam said, holding Dean up when his knees buckled. The wind had started up again and the clouds that gathered split the sky with jagged, forked lightning. "We're leaving. We gotta get off this mountain before the spell wears off."

"Oh, yeah?" Nate stood in front of him. "Doesn't look like he's gonna walk out of here on his own. You help us find Craig, we'll help you carry him….." he pointed at Dean in disgust. "…..down the mountain."

"Don't need your help." Sam retorted. "Can carry him myself if I have to."

"Jesus!" Luke cried, ducking as a nearby tree bent and cracked, a large limb striking the ground so violently, the ground heaved, doing its best to upend them all. "What the hell is that?!" he went to his knees, falling forward to his brace his weight on his palms. "Mountains don't have earthquakes!"

"Get out of my way." Sam felt Dean slump against him and started towards the path that led down the hill. The sooner they got going, the better, for as they continued down the path, he'd be supporting more and more of Dean's weight. "After what you said to me, you pulled a gun on me...…wow, way to ask for my help. This is your hunt, remember? You don't need or want anything from us. There's nothing we have or know that will in any way benefit you, remember saying that? Now, get out of my way, I'm taking my brother off this mountain."

"What about Craig?" Luke insisted. "We can't just leave him…"

"We can't help him until we're safe." Sam bit out. "Once Dean's out of danger and safe as I can make him, I'll do what I can for Craig." he was tense, on edge and exhausted. It felt like everything that had just happened had taken an hour, when in fact Nate and the others had burst onto the scene less than 10 minutes ago. "But Dean comes first and _no one_ comes before him."

"Fuck!" Nate exploded, he was pissed-off over being caught without the knowledge Sam had and he hated having his words thrown back in his face. It made him look both incompetent and uncaring. In fact, he was furious over being forced into a position where he was forced to rely on Sam. "Luke, help me with Billy."

Left to his own choice, Ronnie offered his assistance to Sam who grudgingly accepted it. Dean was no light-weight and while he managed to stumble alongside Sam, Ronnie's added help supporting Dean's ungainly gait was a relief.

"Where are we going?" Ronnie asked, as they slipped and slid and stumbled down the path, ducking tree limbs and pulling free from snagging bushes. "What about Craig? Can you help him?"

"Maybe." Sam said. "They still behind us?" he didn't care what Nate was doing, but he couldn't knowingly leave them to the elements either. He'd see the hunters safe and give them the information they needed to find Craig but that was all he was doing for them.

"Yeah." Ronnie was huffing. "Where will we be safe?"

Sam didn't reply. They wouldn't be safe anywhere on the mountain until they reached acceptable shelter and they had a limited amount of time to do so. He had an amulet and another spell that would protect them if they could reach four walls with a solid roof before being splatted by a falling tree or crushed by a rock or worse, buried alive under an avalanche of mud.

And Sam knew exactly where such shelter was. They just had to get there before disaster had the opportunity to strike - and that would most certainly happen if they didn't reach safety before Sam's first spell wore off.

"The wards that were broken….." Sam tossed a worried glance at Dean when he stumbled, and despite both Sam and Ronnie's support, crashed to his knees. "Hey, come on….little further….Dean, hey…..come on, get up. That's it. You okay?"

"Need….a…..minute." he gasped, trying to pull up, but Sam refused to allow him to stop. "Sammy, come on..."

"We don't have time Dean, we gotta find shelter."

"Why don't we just leave?" Ronnie asked. "The cars…"

"We won't outrun this storm." Sam said. Nate and Lucas were close behind, carrying Billy between them. Huh, apparently Nate had no problems following Sam now! "They won't let us off this mountain. They're pissed off and if we're out here when that spell wears off, we'll be set upon by wolves or bears and we won't make it."

"We have guns and plenty of ammo." Luke hollered.

"Won't do any good against what comes after us." Sam yelled back.

"So, what you chanted out of that book more or less gives us a head start." Ronnie said. Sam nodded. "Long enough to get off this mountain?"

"No, but long enough if we keep this pace to reach shelter."

"So, someone disturbs those grounds, their deaths are made to look like accidents or animal attacks or the weather and no one ever questions it."

"Only those who have evil or destructive intent."

"Billy and Craig aren't evil." Ronnie objected. "They didn't destroy anything!"

"Dig, salt, burn, isn't destroying?" Sam questioned.

"Well, yeah, but…..well, no." Ronnie frowned. "I mean, the ghost killing those hikers…"

"Yeah, word of advice, don't put too much trust in your buddy Nate." Sam warned. "He was more pissed that Dean and I showed up then he was about sharing details of this hunt with you." he slipped but recovered his balance without dropping either Dean or Dean's bag. "He knew damn well there was no grave up here that needed salting and burning. Oh, and FYI, never go on a hunt without thoroughly researching the case first."

"So, where are we going?"

"I told you, I brought my own map."

"You didn't trust Nate?"

"Hell, no."

"So, what do we do?"

"Stay safe for eighteen hours." Sam said tersely. "The spell, curse, whatever, from the violated wards lasts for eighteen hours. We just gotta out live it. I have an antidote for the poison."

Eighteen hours, a fire, the protective shelter of the cabin and a pot to boil liquid in was all he needed. Treated with the antidote to counter-act the curse of the bird spirit, Dean would be safe and all would be well and they could leave. And God willing, they were never coming back.

"Poison?" Ronnie echoed. "They were poisoned?"

"Just Dean. They'll both live."

"You mean Dean and Billy will. What about Craig?"

Sam sighed, tugging Dean's weight his way, away from Ronnie and giving him a hug. He stopped Dean's head from bobbing with his chin.

"We'll help you find him." he said finally.

And then they were leaving and most definitely never crossing paths with any of Nate's group again. Hell, Sam wouldn't even accept a phone call from them!


	4. Chapter 4

Glad you're all enjoying this story! Thanks for letting me know!

* * *

The storm raged and swirled around them but didn't let loose. Sam knew that wouldn't last, his spell was weakening and the storm was gaining in both strength and fury. They fought against lightning strikes and gale-forced winds with gusts that actually pushed them backwards, sending one or the other of them to their knees more than once. Falling tree branches and rolling boulders that shook the ground, causing it to heave and split beneath their feet, were their greatest impediments as they continued on course to the cabin Sam had found earlier via a local, hand-drawn map he'd obtained from the casino. Hell, a time or two, the ground cracked open so wide, a gully large enough to swallow a man was revealed and bridged by not-so-sure-footed leaps and bounds.

He expected further argument from Nate, but other than an occasional grunt to voice his displeasure over Sam's unchecked charge down the mountain, Sam didn't hear a peep out of him. And that was good, for Sam was in no mood for another argument. Time was running out, and despite the thunder and wind, he swore he heard the snarls and roars of whatever wildlife had been unleashed to nip at their heels.

And it was getting cold. Very cold.

"The car's that way." Nate finally balked when Sam took the path in the opposite direction of where they'd all parked. "Hey! You hear me?"

"We're not going to the car." Sam informed him. He was tired and his shoulder was numb from the added weight of Dean's backpack. "Dean? Still with me?"

"Mm-hmm."

"We're going to the car." Nate announced. "You can go wherever the hell you want to, but we ain't following you. We're nearly off this mountain and I don't believe….."

Frustrated, Sam drew to a halt, pulling Dean up beside him. "You'll never make it." Sam shouted. "YOU HEAR THAT?! Huh? That's not thunder!"

"I hear it. What is it?" Luke asked nervously. "Nate, what's he talking about? What's going on? WHAT THE HELL's that NOISE!?"

"Oh, we're going. We can outrun this storm. We need to leave and go get help to find Craig!" Nate shouted angrily, annoyed at having his authority once again questioned. "Ain't no way you can make us go with you."

"Unless you leave Billy behind, you aren't outrunning anything." Sam replied. "Feel that cold? Huh? The storm's stronger and growing worse….you try and carry Billy to your car, you'll never make it."

"Then where are you going?" Luke asked, not sure if he should side with Nate or follow Sam. "How do you know that?" oh yeah, he felt the cold. Seeped right through his coat and chilled his bones. "Why's it so cold?"

"There's a cabin." Sam replied. "We don't have time to get off this mountain. Not yet. The cabin's closer and should have what I need to help Dean."

"And Billy." Ronnie added. Sam nodded. "Okay, but how much further? Dean here ain't too light."

"Don't I know it." Sam muttered. "Dean? Hey, step it up man, we're running out of time."

"Stop….nagg…ing." Dean slurred, resisting the strong urge to sink to his knees. His breathing labored, his chest tight, he wasn't shy about accepting Sam's comforting embrace. "Doin' 'est I can."

"Yeah, I know, sorry." Sam gave him a squeeze. "Not much further, I promise." he lied. "Honest Dean, warmth and food and you can lie down in front of a fire, come on."

"Yuh-huh."

***000***

The cabin, much to Sam's surprise and delight, was a sturdy, well-made structure with a full if small kitchen and while it lacked indoor plumbing, it had a compost toilet and a 5-gallon camp shower in the bathroom, a hand well-pump fed the kitchen sink.

Sam dumped Dean on the sofa and got busy issuing orders. A fire was built, firewood to see them through the next twenty-four hours was carried in from a well-stocked pile, symbols were drawn on every wall, floor and ceiling, a pot was found and water was set to boil. Billy was left on the floor near the fire. And on threat of dismemberment, no one went anywhere near Dean.

Ronnie didn't hesitate to obey and while Luke was reluctant at first, he didn't argue when Ronnie smacked him upside the head and told him to hop to it. Nate stood against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and simply glared as Sam hung an amulet and chanted another spell from the same book he'd used before.

"What are you doing now?" Luke asked. "Where'd you get that book? Why do you carry it with you? Where's that amulet from? How'd you get it? What's it do?"

"It keeps everything within these walls safe from the forces released by the violated wards." Nate answered. "Ain't that right, hot-shot?"

Sam didn't answer, busy digging in his backpack, eventually pulling out bottles and vials along with a first aid kit.

"What about Billy?" Luke asked. "How do we help him?"

"Check his head." Sam replied, his attention elsewhere. "He knocked himself out, he's fine."

Left on his own, Dean slowly shrugged out of his coat and pulled one foot across his knee to untie his laces and kick his boot off before repeating the process with his other foot. That was the last thing he remembered and that position was the way Sam found him some moments later; slumped in the corner of the sofa, one boot on, one boot off.

"Yeah, sorry dude. Can't sleep yet." Sam removed the last boot then finagled and wrestled Dean out of his coat, long-sleeved over shirts, and finally, his t-shirt. "Stay with me a minute, okay?"

"Go 'way." Dean feebly batted at Sam's hands. "you said...I could...sleep."

"In a minute. Hey…stop…..stop it. I said stop that. Dean, cut it out….man, come on." Sam sighed, capturing Dean's fist in his hands. "Who you think you're gonna hit? Me? Why does everything have to be a fight with you? Just once, make it easy for me."

"Don't…bitch." Dean mumbled, finally allowing his t-shirt to come over his head. "Dude, don't leave me naked."

"Lay down. Other way." Sam poked at him until Dean turned onto his left side and faced the back of the sofa. Sam found what he was looking for and cursed. Of course, the claw marks would be on the back of Dean's left shoulder. Now, he'd have to make Dean move. "Other side Dean. Come on, sit up….no, sit up….up…right, yeah, move your legs, no, move them….this way, not that way, no…..good grief! It's not that hard Dean. Sit up, put your legs on the floor and lay down the other way!"

"I'm….tired." he let Sam man-handle him and was soon lying on his right side. "Hap-py?"

"Give me a moment." Sam said. "Just lie still. This might sting a bit."

"What'r'y'doin?" Dean growled. "OW!" he jerked, muscles bunching as he tensed, shoulder arching into his ear. "LEAVE THE SKIN!" he howled. "YOW! Cut it OUT!"

What am I doing? Taking care of you, making sure you don't die, making you feel better, helping you - Sam thought as he thoroughly cleaned the claw marks from the phantom eagle that had attacked when Dean had tackled Billy – like I always do, and have and will.

"Be still and shut up, you big baby." Sam ordered. "Sit up a minute."

"Whatever." he eased up to rest his weight on his left elbow "You just told me said to lay down." he muttered grumpily, tolerating Sam taping a bandage over whatever he'd been tending. Dean was too tired to ask or care. "Done now?"

"Yeah." Sam stood up. He was so relieved Dean was still conscious and mostly coherent, that he didn't even mind Dean being so cranky. "Go to sleep." while you can, Sam sighed, for soon Dean wouldn't be so calm and content. Ice would most certainly help but they didn't have any and the instant icepacks were good for roughly an hour. Luckily, they had well water and it would be cold.

It was going to be a very long eighteen hours.

Sam gathered his supplies and packed them away then turned to Billy who was finally awake and sitting in a chair at the kitchen table. He was pale and shaky, holding an instant icepack to the back of his head which, Sam saw, after knocking his hand away, sported an egg-sized lump.

"Let me see." Sam held a pen-sized flashlight. "Getting Craig back isn't going to…" he began but Nate shouldered him away from Billy. "You mind?"

"Don't go pretending you're all concerned about him." Nate spat. "You couldn't give him two seconds of your time up on the mountain, no need to bother with him now."

"Yeah, we'll take care of him." Luke added. "We don't need anything from you."

"You don't?" childish, sure, but Sam couldn't help himself. "Then go. Go out there and find Craig. Go save him."

"It's your fault Craig's gone missing." Luke was up in Sam's face. "Your fault we gotta go all the way back up there and look for him. Ain't that right?"

Sam placed two fingers on Luke's shoulder and shoved him back. "Back off." he easily adopted a defensive stance. "No one made you follow me here. No one made you leave that mountain. No one is making you stay."

"You left him up there!" Luke shouted. "You know what happened to him and you didn't say anything! You _left_ him out there!"

"I wasn't about to let my brother die in a futile attempt to rescue anyone." Sam said heatedly. "I told you I would help you find Craig when my brother was safe."

"And Dean's safe here? And Billy?" Luke sneered. "Really? Says who? You? Yeah, like I'm gonna trust the word of the man who let this happen in the first place."

"Let's get one thing straight." Sam stalked Luke until his back was against the wall. "Cause if you bring it up again, I'm gonna crack skulls. If anyone's responsible for what happened to Billy and Craig, it's on Nate. Not us. He sent them off without sharing everything he knew about this hunt. You got that?"

"Is it safe for us to go out there?" Ronnie asked quietly, stepping between Luke and Sam and hoping it was enough to make Sam back off. He in no way wanted to attempt to shove Sam back. "I mean, after what we went through coming here….and yeah, I think your spell has worn off. Can you say it again?"

"They aren't after us." Sam retreated, stoked the fire and added another log. "Since Dean and Billy will be staying here, we'll be safe enough until we reach Craig."

"We?" Nate said scornfully. "You? You're gonna leave your lily-white hero all by his little ole lonesome and go back out there and help us find Craig?" he snorted with uncontained contempt. "What makes you think we want or need your help?"

"Nate, not helping." Ronnie heaved, exasperated. "Is Craig alive?"

"I don't know." Sam checked the pot of water on the propane fed stove. It was at a full boil, so he opened a draw-string sachet and dumped the entire contents into the pan. "Maybe." he stirred the pot with a wooden spoon he'd found in a drawer. "Probably." now, to wait for it to boil again.

"When do we go?" Ronnie asked. "How long do we have? I mean, the storm….will it stay here at the cabin? Or will it follow us? What about Craig? Is there a storm after him too? Or a phantom animal?"

"We?" Sam repeated, using Nate's tone, eyebrow raised. "I was just told my place. Ask Nate."

"Can we not fight?" Ronnie pleaded. "Please?"

Sam hesitated. Ronnie wasn't so bad and Sam had nothing against any of the hunters other than the fact they had taken an instant dislike to him upon sight.

"Nate, own up." Ronnie turned on the older man. "I've hunted on and off with you for years and I've never seen you act like this. Okay fine, you don't like the Winchesters, no one is asking you to, but please, work with Sam to get Craig back."

Nate said nothing, didn't move, staring Sam down for several seconds before finally turning away and tossing his own duffel bag onto the table. "Here's what I got."

"Aren't we going now?" Luke asked, dancing in agitation. "We should go now. We need to go _now_!"

"We need a plan." Nate sighed, face screwed up in distaste. "And we need to hear what hot-shot here knows." he admitted grudgingly. "We'll get him Luke."

Did they really need a plan? Sam didn't. They could pack up and leave now. Hike back up the mountain and search the cliffs where they were likely to find Craig trussed up in something similar to a huge birds nest, where left to the elements, and no possible chance of escape, he would die of exposure or wild animal attack within a matter of…..hours. For as time passed, edging closer to the end of the eighteen hour curse span and access to Dean and Billy continued to be denied, the spirits would remember they'd tucked Craig away on some cliff precipice and turn their attention to him.

Sam sighed and went to the window. The storm raged on but other than an occasional gust of wind buffeting the cabin and rattling the windows, no other threats loomed. As long as Dean and Billy remained inside the cabin, they would be safe.

"Billy, I need you to stay awake. As long as you both remain inside this cabin, you'll be safe." Sam turned back to the table. "How do you feel? Seeing double? Nauseous?"

"Head hurts, but I'm okay." thoroughly chastised over the trouble and commotion his actions had caused, Billy was subdued. "I'm sorry, we saw the grave marker and thought….."

"Billy's not up to wrestling with your brother." Nate argued. "Tell him to behave and do as he's told."

"I will." Sam seethed, teeth gritted so tight his jaw ached. "But it's not that easy."

"Then you stay here and babysit him." Luke snapped. "We'll go get Craig. We don't want or need your help. We don't need _you_."

"So I keep hearing." and Sam was sick of hearing it. "You know where to look for him? How to rescue him? How to get back here safely? Billy can't leave this cabin until….." Sam looked at his watch. "Well, morning. I mean it Billy, I don't care what you hear or think you see, do not even open the door. If you or Dean opens a window or a door, you'll break the protection spell."

"What about us?" Ronnie asked. "Won't we break it when we leave?"

Sam shook his head. "I have a spell that will let us out. And no, neither Dean nor Billy can say it because Billy broke the wards and Dean crossed the line once they were broken."

"How do you know where to look for him?"

Sam thumbed his furrowed space between his eyebrows. "We look for a storm just like this one." stupidity, naivety, lack of interest, ill-placed trust. What else could he label this inept group of hunters with?

"We don't need you! Nate can _make_ you tell us what we need to know." Luke threatened, pushing between Ronnie and Sam. "We'll help him. Good as you claim to be, it's 4 to 1 and not even you can beat those odds." he jammed a finger against Sam's shoulder to emphasize his words. "Let's see your big brother help you then!"

"ENOUGH!" Sam exploded. "I COULD have left you UP on the mountain! I COULD have let you go to your CAR! But I DIDN'T and hey, guess what? You're ALIVE!"

"YOU WANT A THANK YOU?" Luke exclaimed, astonished. "You really have balls, you know that? We're in this mess because YOU screwed up!"

Sam gaped, momentarily stunned into silence. But oh, anger was mounting.

"You aren't wanted here. We didn't want you or your dickhead brother on this job. If the two of you hadn't shown up and demanded to be involved with this hunt, Nate never would have sent Billy and Craig up here. This is on you! Craig being missing, Billy getting hurt, whatever the HELL happened to your brother, ALL of it's on YOU!"

"You done?" Sam asked, deceptively calm for he was ready to blow every gasket he had. His earlier threat of cracking skulls was not an idle one.

"Sam!" came a muffled warning from the depths of the sofa across the room. "What's with….all the….yelling?"

"No! No, I'm not done." Luke had lost control of his common sense. "What the fuck are you even doing here? You claim you knew hiking up here with Billy and Craig was bogus, yet you willingly did it anyway. Why? Huh? WHY? Why is that? What the hell are you after?"

"Luke, that's enough." Ronnie cut in, shooting Nate a look. "Nate, little help here."

"I'm mighty curious to hear the answer to that question myself." Nate said smugly. Smug he may be, but he also sized up Sam should he make good on cracking skulls. "So, Winchester? What do you have to say?"

"_You _let your brother get hurt. You did, _you_, that's on you." Luke raged. "Did you get what you were after? Was it worth it?"

"You THINK I did THIS to HIM?" a lamp on a nearby table crashed to the floor as Sam swept his arms wide. A dish was flung across the room, followed by a vase. "Do YOU have any idea how hard it is for me to walk out that door and leave him here? Leave him here hurt and cursed and vulnerable?"

"And whose FAULT is that?" Luke didn't back down. "Huh? For all your research and knowledge about this hunt, he was with you when he got hurt or poisoned or cursed or whatever the fuck happened to him!"

"Sam." Dean warned from the sofa. "What're you doing?" he stirred slightly, forehead but not his eyes, visible over the back of the sofa. "Don't make me get up." he muffled around the sofa cushion with a groan. "Can't….you…behave?"

"You sure you want to mess with me?" Sam asked, voice suddenly deceptively calm and quiet. "See Dean, yeah, he shoots first and never asks questions. He's got no problem putting a bullet through your head. But me, I don't shoot to kill." he began to stalk what could only be described as his 'prey' and Luke's brain decided to start working and he wisely retreated. "I'll shoot you in the knee and beat you with my own two hands until you wish you were dead." he paused for dramatic effect. Good, it worked. "Anything happens to him while I'm gone…..he gets hurt in anyway or gets worse…you'll live and you'll live to regret it."

Luke gulped. "Then don't leave him."

I DON'T WANT TO! Sam silently screamed.

"Hey!" Nate stepped forward. "That's enough Winchester."

"Sammy." Dean's voice was stronger, held a warning. "Back off."

"FINE!" Sam said raggedly, emotions high over the fear he felt for his brother. "You don't need me, you go out there and find your buddy and bring him back. I don't even want to go. I want to stay here with Dean and make sure he's alright."

"Sam." Ronnie said hesitantly. "No one wishes your brother further harm. We just want Craig back and we'll take any help you'll give us. Please."

Sam stalked over to the stove and checked the concoction steaming in the pan. Come on, already, boil!

"Where do we look?" Ronnie pushed gently. "Is he buried?"

"No." Sam took a seat at the table, penlight in his hand. "Look at me Billy." he checked for signs of concussion. "You have to keep the fire going Billy." Sam sat back. "You can't let it die down or burn out. Fire is what gives the amulet its power, it's its source and without it, the spell protecting this cabin will fail and those pissed off spirits will get in. You hearing me?"

"Yes." Billy nodded and returned the icepack to his head. "Bad move."

"In four hours, boil more water then add the contents of this sachet." Sam said to Billy. "It has to boil a second time, roiling boil, got it? You drink a mug and make sure Dean does too. Okay?"

"Four hours, boil, add, boil, drink." Billy repeated. "Okay."

"When do we leave Sam?" Ronnie asked. "What do we need?"

"Rope." Sam said. "Any of you got any?" four heads shook negatively. Sam rolled his eyes, who went on a hunt on the side of a mountain without rope? "Check the cabin, what Dean and I have in our packs won't be enough. Once that pot boils and they each drink a mug, we can go."

Though still pissed and reluctant, Sam sat down with Nate and explained everything he knew.

"Okay, rounding up and ball-parking it, it took us an hour to reach the cabin, by the time we head out, we'll have been here another hour. I figure it'll be a thirty minute hike back up the mountain, because that trip won't be as hard as coming down was because we won't be carrying Billy and Dean, and nothing will be chasing us." Sam tapped a spot on the map spread out on the table. "Here are the cliffs where we should look for Craig. Maybe a thirty minute hike from the burial grounds. So, say three hours from when the wards were broken and Craig disappeared."

"It was fucking cold out there by the time we got here. Is it cold wherever Craig is?" Ronnie reasoned. Sam nodded. "It might take us a couple of hours to find him, depending how big those cliffs are." Ronnie paled, holding Sam's gaze and ignoring Nate's throat-clearing noises. "Could he freeze to death?"

Sam nodded again, then after a moment, added. "Or fall off the cliff or suffer an animal attack or succumb to the poison."

"Why the accounting of time?" Billy asked. "And why cliffs?"

"Eagles nest high." Sam replied. He swallowed hard, the knot in his stomach burning a hole through his gut as he mentally reviewed the time line. Eighteen hours. And come hell or high water or Craig abandoned to the abilities of Nate and crew, Sam would be by his brother's side for the last eight of those hours. "Maybe a tree, but it's doubtful."

"You said the spell lasts eighteen hours." Ronnie said slowly. "But…."

"Once the spirits admit defeat getting at Dean and Billy, they'll turn their attention and rage, full force on Craig." Sam pushed up from the table, rubbing his temples where a headache had taken up permanent residence; time for some Excedrin Migraine aspirin. Digging for the bottle, he sorted through both his bags and Dean's, packing items from both into one to take with him.

"No rope." Luke announced. "We'll have to go back to the cars and get it if you think we really need it."

Add another hour, Sam sighed. "We do." if only he could wait at the cabin while they retrieved rope from their cars but for him to join them, they'd be doubling back. He could meet them at the burial site, but traveling alone was not a good idea. He didn't want to go at all, reluctant to leave Dean in Billy's care. "Only way down the side of a cliff."

"When are we leaving?" Luke spoke up. "We have a plan, why are we still here?"

"Go." Sam swallowed the aspirin and went over to the stove. "I'm not going anywhere until this boils and Dean has had a mug. Deal with it or go without me."

Nate weighed his choices. Oh, he'd love to go rescue Craig without the cocky self-assured Winchester bitch, but…..he was not a stupid man. He'd made a mistake and endangered other hunters under his leadership by letting his ego rule his emotions. And like it or not – and he didn't – the younger Winchester had a head for knowledge – not that Nate would ever admit it out loud.

"You said time was important. Billy's here." Luke scoffed, annoyed by yet another delay. "He's capable of pouring liquid into a mug and handing it to his highness."

"Dean won't take anything from him." Sam replied. Which is why he intended to be back in time to convince Dean to drink another mug of what he was sure Dean would label, 'the vilest shit ever'. "Gear up."

Dean stirred when he felt a shadow loom over him, easing onto his back and throwing an arm up to shield his eyes.

"Now what?" his tongue was thick. "Yuck." he made a face, wetting his lips. "You heading out?"

"Yeah, some water." Sam offered a bottle. "Need your attention. Dean, hey?"

Dean eased up and slumped into the corner of the sofa. "You know what you're doing? You trust them?"

"Yes, and hell, no." Sam snorted. "Listen up, you gotta do what I say, okay? Hey, I said listen…don't shake your head…..you can't leave this cabin Dean. It's warded and protected. You leave it and a big ole nasty ass bird is gonna carry you away. You got me? Don't smirk. I'm serious."

"Still wanna be that mentor?"

"I ever get another bright idea, you have my permission to knock me the fuck out." Sam smiled ruefully. "Don't open the door or a window. No matter what you hear or see, Do. Not. Open. The. Door. Or. Window."

"Right, don't leave the cabin, don't open the window, don't open the door."

"Keep Billy in here with you. I don't care how, you gotta tie him up..." Sam waved zip-ties and a roll of duct tape then set them on the table that no longer contained a lamp. "He needs the protection of this cabin too." Sam swallowed. "Still with me? Keep the fire going, do not let it burn out. Fire feeds the power of the amulet. It's freezing outside and if you let the fire die down, and the cabin falls below 65 degrees, the cold will get in here. Hey….." he snapped his fingers. "Listen Dean."

"Right, yeah, sure." Dean handed the water bottle back. "Stay in the cabin, tie Billy up."

"I'll leave the thermometer on the kitchen window."

"I don't have a fever Sammy."

"Not that kind of thermometer, dumbass." Sam grinned. "Your shoulder's gonna ache. Soak a towel in the water from the kitchen sink. Ice would be best but we don't have access to any. Cold water will have to do, okay?"

"Right, got it. Fire, 65 degrees, wet towels. I'm good."

Yeah well, good for you, I'm not, Sam thought.

"I go back to sleep now?" Dean yawned.

"Not yet. Need you to drink something for me before I leave." Sam patted his shoulder and went off.

Dean let his head rest against the couch cushion. He well knew what Sam was actually saying: there'd be little sleep for him because he didn't trust Billy to be competent and capable any more than Sam did. If anyone was going to keep the cabin safe, warded and its occupants protected, it'd be him.

"Ain't gonna tell you to be careful." Dean said when Sam returned, carrying a mug. "What's that smell?"

"Antidote." Sam said. "Whole mug."

"Suppose you want me to drink it."

"Yup."

"Guess I gotta?"

"Yup."

"Now?" Dean made a face, eyes watering.

"Yup." Sam nodded. "And again in four hours. You listening? Boil water, add the contents of this sachet and bring to a roiling boil. Drink. Got it? Four hours Dean. I told Billy." he grabbed Dean's hand and set the alarm on his watch. "I set your alarm."

Dean sighed, plugged his nose and gulped. Sam watched his brother pale, turn green, then grey. Saw the sweat bead on his forehead and cheeks, saw his tongue lick at his lips and his throat work as he swallowed convulsively and struggled not to upchuck.

"Dean…..?"

"That...is...that's...vile." he coughed hoarsely. "Oh. My. God."

"Gotta keep it down. I'm not leaving you until you do."

"Go. I'm good." he shuddered, breaking out in goose bumps as chills attacked. "I'm...okay." his grimace belied his declaration. "Fuck."

Sam pushed away, leaving Dean making faces.

"Let's go." Sam rasped, shouldering his backpack. One more green-eyed flicker of wet eyelashes and he would be kicking off his own boots and taking a seat on the sofa with Dean's socked feet in his lap.

Dean heard the door open, felt the icy air rush in, and heard the door close. He was well and truly on his own.


	5. Chapter 5

Wow-o-wow! Where has the first half of this year gone? It's June people! JUNE! Happy Summer y'all!

* * *

Five seconds.

Five seconds for four adult men to exit a cabin after a verbal chant from one of the departing four in a language the other three didn't recognize. The same chant was then repeated after the door securely slammed shut behind them. Three men hit the trail and started in the direction that would lead to their parked vehicles while the chanter took dubious shelter under a nearby tree, his collar turned up against the cold, to watch the cabin for nearly a minute. Finally satisfied the cabin remained warded and protected, his spell unbroken, Sam set off after the others who hadn't bothered to wait for him.

"Sam?" Ronnie was coming towards him, the beam from his flashlight struggling to cut through the dark mist and thickening fog. Still, it and its carrier gave Sam a welcome he was relieved to see. This was not a day to be out on one's own. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Sam responded, joining Ronnie who had stopped to wait for Sam to catch up. "I'm good."

"You sure this, ah, weather….storm, whatever….will stay here at the cabin?"

"Wish I wasn't, but yeah, pretty much." Sam cast one last look over his shoulder, stuffed his doubts deep and set off down the path. "Let's go."

He soon took lead and set a fast pace. No one complained, hell, no one even dared comment. They kept pace and they did so quietly. The further they got from the cabin, the less fierce the storm became until it died away altogether. Again, no one said a word: Nate remained silent because he was still pissed that Sam had been right about everything and wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his temper from flaring into a fist-fight – and really, now was not the time to put the younger Winchester in his place. Ronnie didn't speak because he was totally behind Sam and really, what was there to say? Luke fumed silently, not verbalizing his discontent because he feared if he opened his mouth, Sam would shut it for him and a visit to the hospital would be required before he'd be able to open it again.

Sam didn't pay the others much attention. His thoughts and concentration were focused on the task before him. He contemplated how much help he was willing to give and how quickly he could finish and return to the cabin. He settled on the decision that he'd help them find and rescue Craig, but that was all he was doing. And dammit, this time he meant it. If they didn't hop to it and obey his commands, he'd leave them on the mountain to make their own way down. And he was sure, once they had Craig, they wouldn't want anything else to do with him and would stop listening to anything he had to say.

"Do you have a plan?" Ronnie asked. Having been to the cars and retrieving the needed rope, they were hiking back up the path and maybe it was his imagination but the air was getting thicker and the sky, while not yet dark, was murky. "You….you said eighteen hours. Does that go for Craig as well?" they veered onto a path that led away from the cabin. Sam determinedly avoided casting a longing look at it, forcing his feet to carry him away from where he wanted to go.

"I'm sure Nate has a plan." Sam replied grimly. And though he'd hear it – should Nate offer to share it – he'd be damned if he made one measly attempt to implement it. He had his own and it was the only one he was going to follow. "Craig is contained and left to die and if his body is found, it'll just look like he fell to his death off the cliff. Their focus is on the two who got away. If we're lucky, by the time they realize we removed Craig from where they put him and come after him, we'll have reached shelter."

"So, no sign of this nest you think he's in." Ronnie reasoned, shaking his head. He wanted to question who 'they' were but figured Sam had enough on his mind and didn't want to divert his attention unnecessarily. "You know your shit." he settled for moving forward and reserved the right to ask questions later.

Sam grinned ruefully. "Yeah well, with Dean in your life…...you kinda gotta." he wiped his face on his sleeve, the rain coming down harder. "Not everything you hunt is a ghost or demon, you know?"

No, Ronnie didn't know, but he was fast learning Nate didn't know everything about everything like he claimed he did. "You said Dean had been poisoned, but not Billy, what about Craig?"

"Won't know until we find Craig and ask him what, if any, kind of animal he saw."

***000***

Billy stared at the closed door, the icy draft that had swept in still swirled around the cabin. He didn't move, just sat shivering at the table, staring at the door. All he could think was something, somehow had gotten into the cabin. Minutes ticked by, the fire snapped and popped, logs shifted, windows rattled, the door thumped, or was that his heart?

"You hear that?" he whispered. "What is that?" he gained his feet and crept to the window, flinching as lightning flashed and the window vibrated within its frame. "It's going to get in here, isn't it?" he continued to whisper as he crept from window to window. "I don't like this." he put a hand to the window and rubbed the pane, trying to get a better look outside. "I can't see anything, but I sure hear something."

Odd, Dean thought as he fought his way from the depths of the plush sofa and pushed unsteadily to his feet, Billy hadn't acted the pussy-foot milksop out on the trail and Sam hadn't said anything about Billy having hallucinations, so what the hell was his problem now? Dean frowned, mind turning around and upside down; what had Sam told him? Something about wards and spells and spirits that weren't necessarily evil but dangerous nonetheless and Billy may or may not have been poisoned or affected or whatever, and if he had to, he was to tie the kid up to….to…..to...to what? There was something he was supposed to do. Several things, like…..like…..huh.

Well, damn.

"It's cold in here. And getting colder. You feel that? Do you?" Billy prattled on. "Why's it so cold?"

Dean held to the back of the sofa, arms trembling. It took several moments, but his head finally cleared and he looked about for the shirts Sam had divested him of. Billy was right, despite the fire Sam had banked well before leaving, it was cold in the cabin.

Well, shit.

He really didn't feel well at all and he took a brief moment to indulge himself, wallowing in self-pity about the circumstances of his life that never allowed him to see to himself first. Too tired to struggle with sleeves that didn't want to be found, he abandoned his flannel and settled for the long-sleeved thermal Sam had left on a chair. His left shoulder balked but with teeth gritted and breath held he _FINALLY_ managed to work the shirt up his arms and over his head using only his right arm.

"You hear that, right? Right! Don't you?" Billy was whispering nervously, peering at the window. "What is it? _What is that_!?"

Wow…ow…..oh, that hadn't felt good at all. Hunching his right shoulder, he wiped the sweat from his face. He huffed in disdain; sweat caused by the exertion from the simple motion of pulling a shirt over his head! When his breath finally returned and his head cleared a second time, he made his way to the nook in one corner of the room, separated by a half wall that served as the kitchen.

Window….window….where was the window? Sam said there was a window…..oh, there….wow. That was supposed to be a window? He braced his weight on one palm spread flat against the wall and fumbled with numb fingers for the thermometer, that once he found, he hoped he'd remember what to do with it. He found it, hit it, knocked it to the floor. Fuck. He bent over and went forehead first into the cupboard. Stars, he saw stars. Ow. Righting his balance, he tried to lower down to his haunches and landed so hard on his ass, his teeth clacked.

Well, hell.

After a bit of flinging and flailing, a significant amount of cursing and an aching temple and stinging ass, he finally ended up all fours and crawled under the table in search of the elusive thermometer. Finding it, he went down on his elbows for easier balance so he could lower his head and read it without disgracing himself by decorating the floor with that nasty shit Sam had forced on him.

68 and he needed it to read 65, he was good. All was good.

"DEAN?"

His name being bellowed startled him and he reacted, bringing his head up sharply. Unfortunately, he was under a wood table and the crown of his head cracked it with such force, his stomach heaved. Ruh-roh. Knowing his luck, he'd probably split his head open! He gave his head a slight shake – wow, so not a good idea, but no….nothing tickled or felt weird. So, least he wasn't bleeding.

"DEAN?"

Aah, okay, so….what next? The floor was so near and the sofa was oh-so-far away and he couldn't remember why he was up or where he'd been going or what he was doing and the table over his head offered protection from that big ole nasty bird who wanted to carry him away and yeah, that silly threat would give any sane man reason to believe he might be crazy, but not him. Nope. He couldn't even laugh it off, 'cause in his life, it could – and someday, probably would – happen.

Well, fuck.

He shuffled backwards, intent on withdrawing from under the table, but his shoulder gave way and his left cheek scrubbed the floor. Ow, that hadn't felt too good. He sighed, bit his lip and waited for the smarting sting in his abused face to cease. Okay, no reason not to pass out right here, on the floor, under the table; Sam wasn't there to make him get up, so he did, the thermometer still in his hand.

Across the room, Billy, having finally discovered that Dean was no longer on the sofa, shouted his name frantically. When he got no response, his first thought was Dean had left the cabin, but once panic passed, he bet Dean would not have disobeyed Sam's orders to remain inside. He had no idea how much time had passed since Sam and the others had left or from when Dean departed from the sofa, but pulling himself together, he began a search of the small cabin that other than the large living and kitchen area, consisted of one bedroom and the bathroom.

"Dean?" he pulled a chair out from the table and squatted down to shake him awake. "Dude? Hey, what are you doing down here?" he cast a nervous glance at the window, it was firmly closed and intact. "Dean? Talk to me here buddy, come on."

Whether it was the unfamiliar voice or the insistent shaking, Dean woke easily and quickly, but groggy. He jerked upright, whacking the back of his poor head. He rolled to his back, hand fisted around the thermometer, prepared to defend himself until he recognized Billy and it dawned on him there was no threat.

"You okay?" Billy asked, concerned. He offered Dean a hand up who took it, coming to his feet with a wince and a shudder. "What…..?" Billy started. "I mean, you…say, what were you doing?"

Dean held the thermometer out. "Dropped it."

"Yeah, okay, whatever." Billy gestured to the window, then the door, then the other window. "What do we do about that? I mean, you hear that, don't you? You gotta hear that."

"For Pete's sake." Dean sighed. Finally clear headed, he padded barefoot over to the sink where he pumped water into the basin. "It's called wind."

"And you know that how?" Billy prattled on but Dean ignored him. "That's not wind. Not wind I've ever heard before. When have you ever heard wind like that?"

All-righty then, Dean ole buddy, take inventory: Let's see; shoulder – hurts, chest – tight, head – spinning _and_ throbbing, hip – pulsing, throat – sore, stomach – rebelling _again_ against that vile shit Sam made you drink, feet – cold…..he frowned and looked down, rubbing his sore cheek with numb fingertips….he was barefoot? His feet were bare? Now, how the hell had that happened? And when? And where the fuck where his boots? And his socks? And why had he taken them off? Oh right, yeah, since the bunker had more or less become home, Sam was always cleaning, dusting and vacuuming, and didn't allow shoes on the furniture, always walking about and shoving Dean's feet off the table or desk…wait, that didn't account for the removal of his socks now did it?

He cast a look around; this wasn't the bunker and who the hell was the babbling moron? His mind whirled frantically. Panic and flight or stay and fight? He blinked, both hands gripping the sink. Pull it together Dean, he scolded himself, get ahold of yourself. He shuddered, shoulders shaking and elbows quaking as he waited for his head to clear a t_hird _time.

There, that was better. Maybe. Kinda. Sorta. No, not really.

"….think it'll get in?" Billy was still talking to him but Dean had no idea what the hell he was talking about. Or who the hell he even was. His eyes roamed, saw, passed on, then froze and reverted back. There! Oh there were his socks! Hanging right there in front of the fireplace. Hopefully they were dry, 'cause his feet were freezing. "…..we run for it?"

"Wah…..what? Wait." he paid Billy little, if any attention, focused on retrieving his socks and….and….and…he was at the sink….why? What had he been doing? He didn't remember much, recalled even less, but one thing he knew better than to ever forget was Sam's words of warnings and instructions; even if he didn't understand why. "You go near that door, I'll knock you the fuck out." he reached for the small kitchen table, and supported his weight against it with one outstretched arm. Not good enough. Remaining on his feet required letting his hip rest against the lower cupboards with both palms on the counter. Feeling his knees shake was one thing, knowing they would dump him on the floor in an ungainly heap was quite another. "Sam said stay here, stay inside. You touch the window and I'll break every bone in your hand."

Billy blinked, befuddled by the violent tone from a man who shook and swayed unsteadily. "Uh….dude….Dean?" he said uncertainly, whatever had held his attention out the window now forgotten. "What's wrong with you?" God, he hoped nothing. Sam hadn't said anything about his brother not being okay! Had he? Yeah, maybe he had. "Dude, you okay?" probably not, hadn't he found Dean passed out, on the floor, under the table?

"Yeah." Dean swallowed hard. Once, twice, a third time before deciding it safe enough to assume the vile concoction wasn't going to make an undignified reappearance. "What?" he shook off the lingering dizziness, turned back to the sink and soaked a towel in the cold water he'd pumped into the basin. Damn. It wasn't that he was unused to pain, in fact, he was quite familiar with it, but this….this wasn't like anything he'd ever felt before.

"You have to hear that." Billy retreated to his previous perch and resumed his seat. "Don't you?"

Glumly wishing for ice, Dean wrung the wet towel out and held it to the back of his shoulder, lamenting the wetting of his shirt before shrugging it off and turning his attention to Billy. Walking over to the window Billy couldn't stop staring out, Dean pressed his nose against the cold glass. It rattled and shook and wavered, causing Billy to yelp and scramble off of his bar stool, knocking it over with a clatter.

"Chill out." Dean rolled his eyes, and slowly made his way over to retrieve his socks. Leaving the towel on his shoulder, he sat down on the sofa to put his thankfully – atta boy Sammy – dry and warm socks on. On top of how sick he felt, his concern for Sam and his confusion over why they were even in this predicament – _whatever the predicament was_ – the last thing he needed was a hysterical kid with a concussion on his hands. "Sam didn't tell me you were some nervous ninny."

"I don't know your brother." Billy muttered, jumping when something pounded fiercely on the front door to the cabin. "Jesus Christ, what the hell is that!?"

Dean glanced up, casting a look towards the door that held steady despite the fierce beating it was taking. "Doors are gonna shake and windows are gonna rattle, but they're gonna hold. We'll be okay."

"You don't know that!" Billy argued. "How could you possibly know that? Why aren't you scared? What if they get in? How do we fight them? It? What are they anyway?"

Dean sighed. "I don't have a fucking clue what 'they' are or what 'it' is. Sam brought me here. He left me here. He said as long as I stay here, I'll be safe. Now shut the fuck up and leave me alone."

"And that's it? That's all you got? Trust? You trust him? Just like that? Trust him that much?"

Dean just stared at him, his curled lip and narrowed eyes clearly displaying his thought that Billy was stupid. "Uh….yeah." he said sarcastically. "He's Sam." he was too tired and in too much pain to have much patience with the clueless hunter.

Bill stared back incredulously. "Uh, yeah, so?" he mimicked Dean's sarcasm. "I mean….just like that…nothing else? 'Cause Sam said so? I dunno, your brother is, huh, kinda, um, you know, a card or two short of a full deck. You get what I mean? Hot-headed."

"Sammy?" Dean snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, okay."

"What? No? You don't believe me?"

"Hot-headed, hardly. Hard-headed, oh yeah." he gave Billy a thumbs-up, too exhausted to do anything more. "I ain't up to dealing with no dumb fool." he laid his aching head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. Ugh, he felt like shit; he ached and he hurt and he was in some serious pain but hey, at least his feet were warm. "So don't go and do anything stupid. I ain't in the mood to hog-tie your ass, but I will." how many times had he hit his head anyway? He counted off the times he could remember on his fingers: his forehead, the top of his head, the back of his head, his cheek…..all in under a minute or so, right?

His eyes rolled, his fingers curled inward and his hand fell limply into his lap.

Billy's look turned from incredulous to nervous. Oh, Sam's brother was pale and shaking and sweating from undeniable pain, but Billy didn't doubt for one moment, the eldest Winchester wouldn't carry through with his threat. Well, if he could manage to stay conscious, that is.

Memo to self, Billy thought hastily: Winchesters do not play well with others. Do not, at any time, for any reason, hunt with the Winchester brothers ever again.


	6. Chapter 6

Luke and Nate carried on a conversation while following Sam up the trail they'd rushed down just an hour or so ago. Ronnie listened to what they had to say, but didn't offer his opinion. Nate stopped every so often and consulted the map Sam had used to point out the cliffs he was 'allegedly' leading them to. Nate still had trouble trusting the other hunter because he still didn't understand why the Winchesters had insisted on joining his hunt. It was still daylight but with every step they took uphill, the sky darkened with thickening black clouds. There was no 'fierce' storm yet but the wind was brisk and the mist that spit at them was cold. Finally convinced Sam was indeed leading them in the direction he'd insisted they'd find Craig, Nate put the map away and surged past Sam, intent on being the first to find his missing hunter.

"How do we find him?" Ronnie asked, letting Nate and Luke go and falling into step alongside Sam. "Will it be easy, you think?"

"We'll know." Sam glanced up at the sky. "Maybe he'll be conscious and hear us yelling."

"You mean, maybe he's alive." Ronnie corrected. "Right?"

Sam shrugged. "Whatever."

"You think he is?"

"Yup." or he never would have left Dean to come back up here. "Or I wouldn't waste my time."

Ronnie shook his head and gave up, picking up his step to catch up with Nate and Luke. Once at the top of the path, where the map marked the cliffs off to their right, they left the path and moved carefully to the cliff's edge. Luke began calling Craig's name and soon Nate and Ronnie took up the chant. Sam trailed behind, pacing along the edge of the cliff, one eye searching for an odd, undistinguishable shaped cloud hovering in a spot where something or someone had gone over the side, one eye watching Nate and Luke, for Sam didn't trust them at all, and a third eye keeping watch on the increasing violence of the storm.

The cloud-laden sky told Sam which way to go and he continued to head directly towards the gathering clouds. They really shouldn't be yelling, raising such noise, but Sam was willing to throw caution to 'the wind' to save time and hasten his return to his brother. He tensed, his pace slowing as he sensed someone approaching him from behind. Behind? When the hell had that happened?

"That all you gonna do?" Luke demanded, coming up behind Sam and giving him a not-too-gentle shove in the middle of his back. "Strut? You're supposed to be helping us find Craig!"

Sam regained his balance and moved away from the dangerous cliff edge, the ground slick with mud and slippery with loose rocks. He understood the fear and frustration of the other men, but by no means did that understanding mean he was going to tolerate them taking it out on him.

"You stupid or do you have a death wish?" Sam warned. "Don't do that again."

"Or what? What you gonna do? Huh?" Luke taunted. "We've been up here, searching and yelling for what, half an hour now and nothing! Not a damn sign of anything! I think you're full of shit."

"Keep your hands to yourself or risk having your bones broken." Sam replied calmly. He sighed, he was really getting tired of repeating that threat. "Don't keeping pushing me Luke, I'll eventually push back and you won't like it when I do."

"Hey, guys, come on." Ronnie, ever the peacemaker, once again pushed between the two. "Later, okay? Let's find Craig and get outta here. Right? Okay? Luke, back off. Settle this some other time. Remember Nate's nose?" he brought up the prior fistfight to remind Luke Sam wasn't afraid to throw a punch. "Sam, what do we do now?"

"What are you asking him for?" Luke cried. "We just blindly keep trusting him? Look around us! There's nothing – _nothing_ – to prove Craig's even here!"

"He's tracking the storm Luke." Ronnie said calmly, his heart racing. If Luke and Nate decided to break from Sam and go their own way to find Craig, he'd have to choose to either go with them or stay with Sam. "Look around. Can't you see it's worse and the more time we spend searching these cliffs, the worse it gets. We must be close."

"Says him!" Luke kicked dirt at Sam's feet. Sam's hands clenched and fisted. If the preening prick spit at him, he'd have a broken nose, broken jaw, missing teeth and a concussion. "How do we even know that's true? We don't know anything Ronnie! Nothing!"

"Yeah, and that's your fucking problem." Sam spat. Stressed, temper frayed and nerves shot, he no longer cared if he crossed a line. "Coming up here blind. Coming on this hunt in the first place without knowing what you were up against."

"Sam." Ronnie warned. "Not helping here." he turned back to Luke. "Nate does, he knows." Ronnie reasoned. "He wouldn't have come back up here with Sam if he didn't believe Sam knew how to find Craig." he turned to Nate. "Ain't that right?" he waited. "Nate? Right?"

Nate finally nodded. "We'll settle this later Luke." he said, staring Sam down. "Ain't that right?" he mimicked Ronnie.

Sam sneered. "Sure." little did Nate and Luke know 'later' meant after the danger to Dean was over. Let them try and 'settle' anything once Dean was back on his feet, he snickered. "This way."

He set off, not looking to see if anyone followed. Ronnie fell in behind him without hesitation, decision made. He was sticking with Sam no matter what the other two fellow hunters decided to do. They continued to climb steadily uphill, sticking close to the edge of the cliff and the storm closed around them fast and furiously, the wind brutal, the mist now a steady, icy rain but the ground didn't shake or heave, no rocks rolled at them, no tree limbs fell over their heads; nothing threatened them with harm until they were suddenly surrounded by fog so thick, it was black. Visibility was reduced to non-existent and if Ronnie hadn't reached out and grabbed the back of Sam's jacket right when he did, he wouldn't have been able to locate him.

"SAM!" Nate yelled. "HEY!"

"WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON?" Luke shouted. "NATE! I can't SEE! Where are YOU?"

"We're here, aren't we?" Ronnie shouted in Sam's ear, still holding on. "We found Craig?"

"No one MOVE!" Sam yelled. "Tie off to a tree or if you can't, LIE FLAT on the ground and don't move! Ron, keep one hand on me, to your left is a tree…feel for it…."

"Yeah, yeah, got it."

"Tie off to it." Sam ordered. "Let go of me and use both hands. I'll hold onto you. Please tell me you can tie a decent knot?"

"Yeah, yeah, gimme a minute." Ronnie muttered. "Okay, I'm good, now what?"

"You secure?" Sam asked. Ronnie could feel/sense Sam moving about but had no idea what the other man might be doing. "Don't move yet."

"Yup. You tying off to me?" Ronnie groped blindly in the dark, feeling Sam do the same. "Anything you can do to beat back how dark it is?" standing shoulder to shoulder with Sam, tied together by a short rope anchored safely to a tree, they pulled their flashlights and attempted to cut the darkness with their bright beams.

"Shit." Sam muttered. The beams bounced back, revealing no visual at all. "Damn." once tied off to Ronnie, Sam had followed the rope back to the tree and assured himself it was well tied off and in no danger of coming loose. "This is just great!"

"Yeah, I didn't mean a light." Ronnie shouted. Nate and Luke were lost to them and he weren't standing in direct contact with Sam, he wouldn't have been able to communicate with him either. Still, he didn't know if Sam heard or understood him. It was so dark, he couldn't make out trees or the man standing next to him, but he felt and understood the tug on the rope and he dropped to all fours in tandem with Sam. Tied to the tree, they began a careful exploratory crawl to find Nate and Luke, whom, much to Ronnie's surprise, had obeyed Sam and were found lying flat on their stomachs in the last place they'd been seen.

Once the four were together and safely secured, a plan was quickly devised by Sam, argued and lost by Luke, reluctantly agreed to by Nate and due to Ronnie's insistence, finally implemented. There was no way in hell Sam was allowing himself to be roped into a makeshift harness and lowered over the side of cliff and begin a search for Craig. He'd expected it to be suggested – and it was, by Luke – and he vehemently, flat-out refused. He didn't care what anyone thought of him and there was no way anyone could make him do it - not even if Nate held a gun to his head.

And Sam stared him down, daring him to try.

In the end, Luke went over and after three failed attempts in the wrong location, was finally successful in locating Craig and thirty-minutes after he'd been found, an alive but unconscious Craig suffering from was undoubtedly a severe case of Hypothermia was on safe ground, being tended by Nate. Sam neither knew nor cared Craig's exact condition. He'd fulfilled his promise to rescue the missing hunter from the cliff-side nest and he was done. It was up to Nate and the others to see to his survival now.

"Wait…where are you going?" Luke demanded as Sam coiled his length of rope, and shouldered his backpack. "Hey, you...yeah, you Winchester! I'm talking to you."

Yeah, I hear you, Sam thought silently, and I don't fucking care. I'm tired and my shoulders ache and my back hurts from holding your ass off the side of a cliff and dragging you back up it four times, the last time with a limp body. "Back to the cabin." he'd been gone far longer then he'd wanted to be and while it was still dark with thick fog, visibility would return and increase the further away from Craig he got.

"You can't…..you aren't going to just leave us here?" Luke spluttered. "What the fuck Winchester?!"

"I told you I'd help you find him, I did." Sam shrugged his backpack across his back. "I'm done."

"Nate! Do something!" Luke yelled. "I don't like this, something ain't right here and he's just going to leave us out here?"

"Here now, Sam." Nate rose to his feet to confront him. The storm had abated to a driving, cold rain, the winds strong, but no longer gale force. How odd. "We aren't out of danger yet and you know it."

"And?" Sam taunted. "What Nate? Huh, and what?"

"Where are you off to in such a hurry anyway?" Luke shouldered his way next to Nate. "Running back to your pansy-ass brother? Dean some kind of wimp who needs his hand held 'cause he has a fucking boo-boo?"

"I'm not leaving my brother alone any longer than I have to." Sam adopted a defensive stance, backpack balanced so that he had free range of motion with both arms. "If I trusted Billy to do what needs to be done, I could have given Dean meds to knock him out, or to help him with the pain but I don't. I don't trust him at all. I expect Billy to do nothing but mope, leaving Dean to keep the fire going so the amulet remains powered in order to protect the cabin and to do that, he has to be awake."

With a howl of rage, Luke launched himself at Sam, barreling into him with a force Sam hadn't expected and knocking him to the ground. Sam landed hard on his back with a whoosh and an oomph, the air momentarily knocked right out of his chest. Luke was a scrappy fighter, managing two solid swings against Sam's jaw before Sam rallied and used a knee to shove him off. But he was neither a talented nor a smart fighter and despite the heavy backpack, Sam quickly gained his feet and easily met Luke's renewed attack, soon taking and keeping the advantage.

"You happy now?" Ronnie asked Nate, hands perched on his hips. "You have a busted nose, lost a tooth, Billy has a concussion, Craig's condition is unknown, probably serious, maybe critical and Luke is getting the shit beat outta him. Tell me, was it worth it Nate? Huh? _Tell me!"_

"Shut the fuck up." Nate growled. He was torn between attending Craig further or saving Luke from broken bones and weeks of physical therapy. Sam was not holding back this time, he was furious and taking his anger and frustration out on Luke, who was too stupid to stop fighting back. "DAMMIT! Grab whoever you get ahold of first."

Finally able to separate the two by breaking Sam's hold on Luke's coat, and dragging Luke away, Ronnie talked Sam down while Nate checked Luke over.

"Think he broke my arm." Luke whined. "Least some fingers."

"What do we do now?" Ronnie demanded. Sam really didn't owe them anything and he'd done more for them then Ronnie had thought he would, but still, Sam's knowledge and guidance was still needed; whether Nate and Luke wanted to admit it or not. "Sam, you don't owe us anything, I know, but please, I'm begging you here..." Sam was done checking himself over for injury, made sure nothing had fallen from his pockets or out of his backpack and started to walk away but Ronnie dogged his heels.

"If he's breathing, get him to the cabin and wait out the 18 hours then get him to a hospital." Sam snarled, Ronnie kept circling him, blocking his progress towards the path. "If he's not, bury him."

"You really are a fucking prick." Nate spat hotly. "Go, go on, asshole. Get out of here. And don't ever let me lay eyes on you or your piss-head brother again."

"Nate, what Sam's saying is we aren't going to get him off this mountain. Not now. Now with everyone alive." Ronnie said. "Come on, he hasn't done wrong by us yet." he turned to Sam. "If we get him to the cabin, will he be protected?"

"You get him there alive, yes."

"Can you say the same spell that allowed you to get Dean to the cabin by holding the storm back?" Ronnie asked.

"I can't say it, I won't be with you." Sam said. "But you can. Can you read Latin?"

"Not well." Ronnie confessed. "Is it...?"

"I can." Nate growled. Oh, there would come a day when he would see Mr. Sam Winchester again.

"You say it, and you've got an hour, maybe two, to reach the cabin. Saying it a second time won't do any good." Sam dug into a pocket and handed Nate a piece of paper. "I wrote it down for you before we left the cabin. You'll know if it wears out before you get to the cabin because you'll hear but probably not see, phantom spirits that will chase, one, probably a bird." Craig had been in no condition to speak, let alone repeat what, if any kind of animal he'd seen. "Good luck."

"How do we get into the cabin once we're there?" Ronnie asked. "Won't we break the protective sigils?"

"Use the same spell I used to get us out." Sam repeated it, as it was only a sentence rather than a complete chant. "Got it?" he had every intention of barring the door against entry, so he'd well know when they arrived at the cabin and it would be his choice whether or not they gained entrance into Sam's carefully chosen and protected sanctuary. "Now get out of my way Ronnie, I'm done with threats. Move or I will move you."

Ronnie nodded and instantly moved aside. Nate stood his ground, holding Sam's gaze before stepping aside and throwing a hand wide to show Sam the way down the mountain. "Go then. Go, get out of my sight, but know this Winchester, there will be another day, another time. See how big and bad a bully you are then."

Sam held his gaze, rain obscuring his vision then turned and jogged out of sight into the rain and darkness.

***000***

Lulled to a state of semi-sleep – okay, unconsciousness – by unrelenting pain that steadily increased, Dean didn't pay much attention to Billy or how much time passed or the temperature of the cabin. It was the lack of snapping and popping from the fire that finally roused him from his pain-induced stupor and got him to his feet. That, Sam's annoying voice in his head and a steady, throbbing pain in his shoulder that made tears prick his eyes and threatened to spill.

Damn.

He sighed shakily and after a fight with the sofa that did not want to give him up, gained his feet and shuffled slowly about the room. Hand-walking his way along furniture and the wall, he eventually - and it took him far longer than he was happy with - made it over to the sink where he rewet the towel with cold water and settled it on his shoulder. His shirt was still wet from before, telling him not much time had actually passed, leaving him chilly and uncomfortable from damp clothes. Aah well, whatever.

Billy was standing at the window, staring out it blankly. He didn't move or speak, totally enthralled with whatever he and he alone, was or wasn't seeing. Dean walked behind him and smacked him upside the head, startling him so badly, he jumped away from the window with a yelp.

"Fire." Dean reminded him. "Keep it hot, remember?" and the thermometer was where again? He'd had it...he was sure he'd held it in his hand.

"What? Oh." he didn't move. "Yeah, sure."

Maybe, Dean thought as he grabbed the fire poker, the kid was so spacey because he had a concussion. Or maybe Dean was the one with the concussion; his head sure as hell hurt enough to have suffered one. He stoked the fire, added several logs and sat down on a chair near the hearth.

Now, what all had Sam said? Think Dean, think dammit. Uh…..stay in the cabin – done; keep the fire going – done; towels soaked in cold water would make his shoulder feel better – bullshit; beware of birds – yeah, okay, sure, whatever; somewhere there was an amulet that did something – what, he had no fucking idea; alarms, sachets, antidote, boil, roil…trouble and toil…yadda, yadda, yadda, Sam sure did talk a lot. Sam, Sam, Sam. His brother was annoying and bossy and abrupt and impatient, so why did Dean miss him and wish he were there? Uh, no, he thought hastily, best push thoughts like those to the back of your mind. Banish them.

He blinked, flexing his fingers into and out of a fist. They, his fingers on his left hand, were numb. Sam hadn't said anything about that. Had he? Maybe he had. No, no, he hadn't. Dean sighed, trying different positions with his arm to ease the ache in his shoulder. It wasn't broken, didn't feel like pain from a dislocated shoulder, didn't feel like a joint that needed to be cracked, it just _hurt_. Yeah, okay, so no...not one god-damn, fucking comfortable position. He sighed, chin to chest, bit his lip and dangled his hand to the floor in a desperate attempt to find some relief.

He found none.

Zip ties and a roll of duct tape sitting on a nearby table caught his eye, taunted him, urged him to remember something, but what? Well, couldn't be anything too important. Right? Hell, he didn't know. He was tired and cold and he hurt and he ached and he didn't understand why or know what to do about it. And what the hell was that damn beeping?

Billy jumped when a thud, then a thump and finally a crash came from_ inside_ the cabin. He tore his gaze away from the window and searched the room with his eyes; afraid something had finally gained entrance to the cabin, he was too frozen with fear to do anything more. But no, nothing had entered the cabin. The source of the noise had indeed come from within the cabin - Dean lay sprawled on the floor, near the fire, tangled up in an over-turned chair.

"Dean?" he crept across the room, one eye on the door, expecting something to come crashing through. "Dean, hey…." he carefully removed the chair and set it on its feet then nudged Dean with his foot; gently at first, then harder when he failed to garner any response. "Dean, come on."

Dean swung out at the offending intrusion into his hip, rolling to his knees in preparation of fight. Billy held both hands up and backed away.

"Easy dude, mean you no harm." he stood out of reach of physical contact as Dean sat up with a moan, holding his head in both hands. "Um…..sorry, but, you're…well, you're beeping."

Dean bared his teeth. Yeah, hear it loud and clear, you douche, no need to point out the obvious. He lowered the arm with the wrist on which his watch strapped. Right. Sammy had set his alarm. He was supposed to do something. What was it again? Maybe Sam should have written everything down. Dean raised his head and squinted at his hand. Even if Sam had, it wouldn't have done him any good because at best, his vision was blurry.

"How long?" Dean got his feet under his ass, pushed to his knees and tried to use the hearth to support his weight while he pushed up with his hands but his left wrist refused to cooperate and his hand slipped off the stone that was too slick to grip. He fell hard to his chest, ass-to-ceiling, staring at his streaked-red traitorous, four-fingered left hand. He frowned, he was bleeding _and_ he'd lost a finger? Oh, that couldn't be good.

"What?" Billy asked stupidly. "Say, dude, I think...yeah, you are. You're bleeding. Your shoulder I bet. Though, with your shirt wet and all, it's a guess at best."

"H'long they b'gone?" his shoulder protested any and all movement and while he'd previously ignored it, he couldn't do so now. He finally made it to his feet, a wobbly, hunched-over standing position, left arm held tight against his side but he was standing. "The...oth...Sam." he huffed impatiently. It wasn't a hard question, for Christ Sake.

"I dunno." Billy shrugged. "Couple hours maybe."

"Or four." Dean used his teeth to finally turn his watch alarm off, staggered over to the kitchen, pumped water into the sink, filled a pan and set it to boil on the stove then looked around for his towel. He was struggling, really struggling, not to moan and whine or whimper and if he didn't get something cold on his shoulder right then, he was going to cry. "Fuck." he wanted Sam. Not some snot-nosed wanna be hunter who didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground.

"Guess." Billy agreed. "Maybe."

Dean didn't know why he was boiling water but something told him he was supposed to, so he did. Teeth gritted, he retrieved his towel from the floor by the fireplace and returned with water-filled eyes and running nose to soak it in cold water. Almost, he coaxed himself silently, hang in there, almost there, don't cry, don't cry, don't be a baby, bite your tongue, clench your jaw, don't whine, don't moan, don't whimper like a wimp…..you can do it…..you can do it, you can, you can, you can do it.

His knees gave out.

"Whoa!" Billy exclaimed, watching as Dean crumbled to his knees, hands instinctively flailing out to prevent an undignified face-plant. "Dude, you gotta stop doing that!"

His palms hit the floor, briefly braced his weight, then his left arm buckled when his shoulder voiced its displeasure and he dropped to his left side with a bar-jarring thud, arms crossed over his stomach. And there he stayed, with Billy watching him roll and rock and curl up then straighten out; he sat up, doubled over, flopped onto his side, squirmed on his back, shifted from hip to hip. A time or two, he got on-top of it, gained control and sat on his ass, the wet towel Billy had handed him on his shoulder, dripping onto the floor, before doubling over yet again, forehead to floor and passing out.

Billy tried to make him comfortable, leaving him on the floor of the kitchen but with a blanket, hoping, wishing and praying that Dean would eventually be alright and get up on his own. He didn't know what to do; he had no idea whether it was safe to offer Dean whiskey or pain meds. Didn't know whether to change the dressing on his shoulder or leave it alone. He left it alone, doubting Dean would tolerate Billy touching him.

Having no idea what to do, out of his comfort zone and scared beyond belief, he stood at the stove and stared at the pot of water, praying to any and all saints and some that he invented that it would miraculously boil upon command. It didn't.

The violent sounds of the door being under attack jolted Billy right out of his stupor. The fire blazed hot, the flames eagerly feeding on the recently added logs and was in no immediate danger of burning out. Taking a breath and finding his courage, Billy stood with Dean on the floor between his feet, knife in one hand, revolver in the other, ready, if-not-so-willing to take on any threat that burst through the door. And come through it would, for the knob was turning and then the door flung open with such force, it bounced off the wall, flung back shut and was kicked open a second time.

Billy swallowed nervously, the looming dark shadow illuminated in the open doorway was both threatening and intimidating. How and with what, was he supposed to fight it? Would Dean pull it together and help him? Would he know what they were facing?

"DEAN!"

Oh, Billy's knees went weak with relief. Apparently, they were only facing an anxious, worried 'little' brother. He swallowed hard, mentally revising his former memo to self: He could see it on Sam's 1st grade report card, marked with a red sharpie; _Sam_ Winchester does not play with others. Maybe his chances would be better if he were to fight a phantom spirit from yesteryear.


	7. Chapter 7

With the door now wide open, the howling and pounding and stomping grew in intensity and as Billy stared wide-eyed at the door, slowly took on the form of….of…something resembling human. Billy shrieked when smoke-shaped transparent hands, of which there were more than two, or tendrils…claws….paws…talons….whatever slithered and weaved around the door frame, seeking entry but denied by an invisible barrier. This…._this _all was beyond his pay grade. He hunted ghosts that definitely looked human, and maybe an occasional demon, but sure has hell nothing like this!

Springing forward, he pushed past Sam, who either ignored or was oblivious to, the danger and slammed the door shut, gun and knife still in either hand. The smoky apparition slammed and thumped between door and doorframe then disappeared with a howl that to anyone else would have been identified merely as wind.

"What the HELL?" Billy demanded, back against the door, gasping for his recently departed breath. "What the HELL was that?" his head swam. "HOLY SHIT!"

The wet, muddy, bedraggled whirlwind that had burst through the door sent Billy flying with a hard shove, dropped the board used to bar the door into its brackets that were nailed to the wall on either side of the frame, chanted a spell, and sped across the room, shedding its backpack, then its wet coat on the way, ignoring the wet plop when they hit the floor _all_ before Billy could pick himself up from where he'd landed across the room _and_ positively identify Sam! He blinked; once, twice….several times. Yeah, he was pretty sure – fairly sure – what he saw was indeed Sam. He swallowed hard, but before he could force his tongue to work, Sam was demanding answers.

"Why is he on the floor?" Sam snapped, irritably pushing wet, mud-tangled hair out of his eyes. "What did YOU let happen to him? What did YOU do to him? Didn't you LISTEN to anything I told you!?"

"Let?" Billy dazedly repeated. "Do to…I didn't do anything to him!"

Panic making his heart hammer against his ribcage and wincing against sudden chest pain, Sam went to his knees beside his brother and reached with hands that shook – and not from the cold – to grab Dean by his arms and pull him up from the floor, letting him fall across his lap. "Dean? Hey, hey, it's me, just me, you're okay…..what are you doing on the floor? Huh? Come on, hey, let me see." he juggled and wiggled, pushed and pulled until Dean flailed in protest from the rough handling. "Sorry, hey, talk to me."

"Tham?" Dean groaned, head rolling and bumping against a solid shoulder that was wet and cold and rough beneath his cheek. "Ow." he struggled to move, pull away, sit up, do something but gave up after little effort because he was simply held too tight. "Lost….a….." he squirmed and wiggled until the iron band pinning his arms to his sides loosened enough he could maneuver his left hand into sight. He huffed and puffed, panted and gasped. "Ow. An'…..nugh…..oopfh!" he lost his breath when Sam began poking and rubbing and pinching. "Fuck, you doin'?"

"Hmmm? What'r'u saying?" Sam asked absently, too busy checking Dean's eyes, then prying his mouth open to look at his tongue to give Dean his full attention. "Your shoulder, yeah, I know." he felt for a pulse in Dean's neck, more for reassurance than anything.

"My _finger!"_ Dean corrected irritably, rousing and using his other hand to push Sam away. "Stop…..Tham, stop!"

"You're wet and bleeding and on the fucking floor and you're worried about your damn finger? The fuck Dean! Jesus, you just gave me a freaking heart attack!" Sam fired back. "What, you got a hang-nail?" Dean shoved his hand in Sam's face, waggling his fingers, causing Sam to draw back to avoid getting a finger up the nose. "Stop it!" Sam caught his hand. "What the hell is your problem?"

"I…" Dean squinted at his hand and frowned. "I…. think I lost…...a finger!"

Unable to comprehend what Dean was saying, Sam simply stared, aghast. "You….you what?" his mind raced. How had Dean managed to detach his finger? Which one? Where was it? There was no ice! How would he preserve it until he could get Dean to a hospital…Oh No! He _couldn't_ get Dean to the nearest ER! Not for another, what, eight hours?...and…..wait just a freaking minute here! His mind was fast catching up and it lassoed in his galloping panic; there should be blood, a lot of blood if a hand was missing a finger. And a bandage. Why wasn't there a bandage? And the person whose finger was missing might be exhibiting symptoms of shock, wouldn't he? And the hand minus a finger might be swollen or discolored….or…..or…

"Are you…..? You're…..you are! You're pouting?" Sam exclaimed incredulously, snapping to attention. Rational thinking and sanity had returned. So had his vision and he was quite sure Dean still possessed all ten fingers. Still though, he couldn't stop himself from taking Dean's hands in his and feeling for all fingers on both hands, rubbing and squeezing each one as the counted to ten, twice. "You're gonna be the end of me." he muttered under his breath, taking a third count just to be sure.

Dead murmured something, breath hot against the chilled skin exposed on Sam's neck, but Sam had no idea what he said.

"Right, yeah." Sam gave him a hug. "Ok." he curled Dean's five fingers into a fist then bent his head to rest his forehead against Dean's knuckles. "I'll find it. Put it back on. Make you good as new, okay?"

Dean exhaled what might have been his agreement but Sam still couldn't understand what he was saying. He sighed shakily, biting his bottom lip to stop if from quivering. Dean's inability to speak coherently only gave Sam yet another reason for alarm. Pfft. As if Dean's willingness to trust so blindly, acquiesce so readily, and accept so easily that Sam could actually reattach a severed finger in a shack, in the middle of nowhere and all would be ok, wasn't enough to scare Sam shitless.

"Okay Sam, pull it together." he breathed, trying to coach himself into some semblance of calm. It took over a good minute. "Dean?" he shook the weight heavy against his arm gently at first, then harder when Dean's head bobbled loosely, snapping to and fro on his neck before coming to rest with his chin on his chest. "DEAN! Hey, stay with me!"

He was rewarded with a moan, renewed head bobbing and no further response.

Sam cursed. He didn't need a look at a clock to tell him more than four hours had passed. He was pissed, he was worried, he was scared and who better than to vent his emotions on then Billy? He tilted his head back and twisted his chin around Dean's constantly moving head to eye the pot on the stove. A pot that contained contents he couldn't see.

"What is that?" he demanded, trying to decide if he were unable or simply unwilling to get up and let go of Dean to see what was in the pot on the stove for himself. "Is it water or the antidote? Is it boiling? What happened to boil the antidote in four hours Bill?" unwilling he decided. Though heavy, Dean's weight in his arms and across his lap was comforting and he wasn't ready to relinquish it.

Billy waved a hand at the stove, pointing at the pot but finding words to speak failed him.

Sam's jaw clenched. The vein in his throat pulsed. His eyes narrowed until his eyebrows became one. But he managed to retain his temper. Barely.

"Is. It. Water? Or. The. Antidote?" Sam seethed, engaged in hand playing with Dean who was determined to latch on to Sam's fingers and not let go. "HEY! I'm talking to you!"

All Billy could do was shake his head, the ability to speak yet lost to him.

"Take the two steps over to the fucking stove and tell me if it's boiling!" Sam ordered, now _struggling_ to cease Dean's _struggles_, which he assumed were either attempts to get away from him or attempts to play with Sam and make him pop a blood vessel. "Think you can do that?"

Billy nodded, but didn't move.

"THEN DO IT!"

Billy jumped, clicked the safety on the gun, set it on a table then sat the knife beside it. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, it's boiling." he stood next to the stove, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Yeah, it is."

"_What is boiling_?" Sam roared, dragging Dean back into the comfort zone between his legs not-so-gently by the waist of his jeans. "Dean, stop. What the hell's with you?"

"Wa…wat….the water." Billy stuttered, willing himself to pull it together. His head hurt, he saw double, he was scared of the weather, the spiritual threat…..Sam, and he worried about his friends and debated how to ask Sam what had happened to them, for they'd yet to follow Sam into the cabin; a cabin Sam had securely barred against entry.

"Then add the antidote." simple and stupid, Sam decided. They all were. How the hell were they still alive? "And stand there and watch it until it boils again. A full boil, not just bubbles around the pan, got it?" he held Dean pinned mostly on his side to the floor with one arm until Dean finally laid still, then gained his knees and using brute strength, roughly hauled Dean off the floor and turned him around to sit on his ass. "Stay." Sam breathed in his brother's ear when Dean began to thwart Sam's attempts to hold him still. "Dean…hey, stay still."

The cabin lacked electricity, but there was enough light from the fire and an oil lantern on a nearby table that Sam could see a red mark on Dean's forehead and when he lightly used his fingers to investigate, found a good-sized lump on the top, just to the right, of Dean's head.

Aaaaannnd another strike against Billy. "Did he hit his head?" Sam asked calmly. Was nothing serious, but still, that didn't mean Sam was happy about it.

"Uh…..yeah, yeah….couple times. Yeah." Billy admitted. "He uh…..got up to get the thermometer and he dropped it. So he crawled under the table to get it and…"

"Help me move him over by the fire." Sam interjected. "Then boil more water. I have to tend his shoulder and clean him up."

"Uh….." Billy asked awkwardly. "How?" he'd added the contents of the sachet Sam had left earlier to the boiling water and stirred the mixture with the wooden spoon. "Why?" the floor, despite a thick carpet would not be comfortable but he suspected Sam wanted Dean to have the benefit of the warmth and comfort of the fire. "Uh, say Sam….the others? Are they…..?"

"Are you always such a dimwit?" Sam huffed disdainfully. "Grab his feet." he gathered his groggy brother in his arms, hands under his armpits and supporting Dean's weight, gained his feet with a grunt considerable effort. "Watch, he might kick." but Dean had gone limp and offered no resistance when he was carried over to the fire and deposited on the carpet before the hearth.

"Me? Me? ME?!" Bill protested, letting go one ankle at a time. "Hold on Sam, just a friggin' minute here!"

"Yeah, dimwit. How can you hunt with people you_ can't_ trust? Why? Why would you do that? Why would you blindly follow what you're told?" since Dean was quiet – most likely unconscious – Sam decided to remove his t-shirt and tackle the claw wound on his shoulder. Get as much done as quickly as he could, because chances were, with Sam's luck and knowledge from plenty of past experience, Dean wouldn't stay out for long.

"Maybe 'cause we were, you know, hunting a ghost, a spirit, like I have a hundred times before!" Billy said shrilly.

"And you've managed to live this long?" Sam scoffed, dismissing the argument. "News flash Billy Boy. There are more thinks out there to hunt and hey, there are hunters who know a hell of a lot more than good ole Nate."

Bill retreated back to the relative safety of the kitchen and pumped water into every available pan then put one on each of the stoves three remaining burners. He alternated between watching the contents of the pots and watching Sam attempt to tend Dean who came abruptly awake and was not at all happy to submit to Sam's administrations.

He thrashed, he brawled, he flung and he kicked but Sam had the room to fight back. He struggled to pin his brother to the floor and once he finally accomplished that feat, held him still and close while offering comfort the only way he could; with patience and words of assurance spoken in a calm voice with a gentle but firm hold that served as a restraining hug.

When Dean broke free, Sam gently but firmly recaptured him. When Dean fought back, Sam easily ducked a closed fist and dodged socked foot kicking out. When Dean gained his knees and attempted to crawl away, Sam tackled him and dragged him back, holding him until Dean quit fighting. Whatever Dean started, Sam countered, until finally, both were exhausted and Dean had submitted.

"You done?" Sam panted, Dean flat on his back, arms flung wide, knees raised. "Dean? Hey."

"Get off me." Dean gulped breathlessly, chest heaving, rivulets of sweat on his cheeks. "Ugh." he moaned, the guttural sound thick with pain.

"Stop fighting me." Sam moved back, letting Dean roll to his knees and push up with his good arm. "Gonna hafta let me see your shoulder, you know." he used his wet sleeve to wipe his own face as he caught his breath. "Damn."

"Fuck you." Dean retorted, crawling away. He didn't get far, butting up against the couch and slumping against it. "Lemme 'lone." his t-shirt was wet and clung uncomfortably to his slick skin but he used it anyway to swipe its hem across his face. "Shit."

"Can't do that."

"Go'way."

"Can't do that either." his own comfort being seen to sometime off yet, Sam reached for a canvas bag and dragged it clinking and clacking next to his hip. "What did you do to make your shoulder bleed?"

"Dunno." but lordy did it hurt. The thought of Sam touching it make him sick. He paled, sweat anew beading on his forehead and dripping from his nose to his lip. "You're not touching me."

"Sorry dude, I gotta." Sam decided not to mention Dean also had to drink another mug of antidote. He used his teeth to tear open a package of bandage pads. "Lie down and roll over."

"Go to hell."

"Nice." Sam reached for a brown bottle and wads of cotton. "Thanks."

"Leave it alone Sam." Dean spoke clearly for the first time. "It ain't bleeding all that bad."

"On your belly." Sam grabbed an ankle and hauled Dean away from the couch, who with a yelp, clawed for something to hold onto. "Come on, let's just get it over with."

Dean gave a kick but Sam had a firm hold and Dean was too tired make a serious effort to break free. He made a last half-hearted grab for the couch to stop his slide across the floor but missed and was soon sprawled on the floor next to Sam's hip. After a bit of a kerfuffle and some scrabbling, Dean once again went limp and Sam easily flipped him over onto his belly.

"He keeps doing that." Billy spoke up. "Passing out."

"Uh-huh." Sam grunted, producing a pair of scissors to cut Dean's shirt off. No way was he going to attempt to remove it over his head. So why the hell hadn't he passed out when Sam had been trying to tire him out so he could hold him still?

Okay, Billy frowned, so news of Dean's habit of frequently passing out didn't appear to freak Sam out. "Say, ah, Sam." Billy stirred the pot. "The others? I mean, are they….did you…..um. Did you….find Craig?"

"They're on their way back." Sam removed the sodden bandage and in his hand was the largest freaking Q-tip Billy had ever seen in his entire life. Even larger than the ones used at the blood mobile! "Craig was alive when I left them."

And that, apparently, was all Sam was going to say on the matter.

"Jesus Dean." Sam sighed, opening the brown bottle and dipping the swab-on-a-stick in. Billy expected liquid. Rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide or hell, even yesterday's remedy of Mercurochrome, long off the market in the States for its mercury content but nope, when Sam withdrew the cotton-swabbed end, it was coated in off-white colored powder granules.

Billy watched while Sam worked efficiently, quickly and without hesitation. Oh yeah, he'd done this before – and done it often. Holding a square of white cloth in his left hand, he pressed, paused to apply pressure, swiped, dabbed the Q-tip and repeated; press, hold, wipe, dab, repeat, the brown bottle within easy reach for repeated dipping. The bleeding slowed, but didn't stop. Sam cursed, laid a clean cloth over the oozing wounds and dug through his bag that still sat somehow nearby, for Sam had chased Dean all over the floor. His hand came out with a plastic tube with a blue end – it looked like a syringe, yet didn't; there was a plunger but no needle. Sam didn't hesitate and though Billy watched everything he did, he still couldn't understand what Sam was doing.

Within mere seconds, so fast Billy hadn't even known what he was doing, Sam had the plastic tube filled with the granules from the brown bottle, blue tab pulled off with his teeth, the cloth removed from his brother's shoulder, his non-gloved fingers pushing and pulling and probing the slash wounds that were deeper then Billy had envisioned – and really, where had those wounds even come from? Despite Dean's howl of protest followed by a yelp of pin, Sam buried the syringe like object deep in the wound and depressed the plunger.

Dean yowled, jerking away. Sam straddled him, pinning him to the floor with his legs only, preventing him from crawling away or effectively fighting back. He quickly refilled the syringe and repeated the process another four times, until all the slash wounds had been injected with the substance.

"That shouldn't hurt." Sam murmured. "Done it a thousand times before."

"What is that?" Billy asked. "What the fuck is that? What kind of witch-doctor first aid shit do you got going on there?"

At first, Sam ignored him and though still pretty darn curious, Billy was reluctant to ask again. "Celox." Sam finally replied, then added. "It's a styptic." now he had an array of bandages, gauze pads and tape and he soon had the wounds sufficiently bandaged. "Bandages and gauze for arterial bleeding, proper use be damned."

"Like….what a vet uses on dog nails?" Billy questioned. "And it comes in a bottle? Really?"

"Yeah, like that." he got up and retrieved a long-sleeved shirt from some bag or another. "Dean, hey, come on." he tried to rouse Dean and cajole him into raising his arms over his head to receive the shirt but when he failed, used his strength to dress his limp but resisting brother in the shirt. "Why can't you ever make anything easy?" Sam sighed tiredly. "You have ten fingers Dean, stop." he gathered Dean's fingers and gave his hand a hard, though not punishing, squeeze. "That boiling yet?" he asked Billy. "Yo!"

"Oh. "Billy turned to the stove. "Um, yeah."

"Then drink a mug." Sam ordered. "And keep it boiling, they'll be back soon and someone's gonna hafta make Craig drink some."

"Uh….okay." Billy noted and wisely kept to himself that Sam had said 'someone', meaning, not him. "Yeah, sure."

"And bring me one." Sam was bent over Dean and as far as Billy could tell, Sam was checking Dean's pupils and pulse and counting his breaths, he just didn't know why. As far as he knew, Dean was still or maybe it was again, unconscious. "Dean, hey, need you to sit up. Come on."


	8. Chapter 8

Dean gave neither help nor resistance. Sam's physical strength had taken a beating and was nearly at an end but he found enough to haul and heave and lift until Dean was once again slumped against the couch. He blinked blearily up at Sam as if he had no idea where he was or who Sam was.

"Hey." Sam greeted, squatting down in front on him and snapping his fingers in his brother's face. "You with me?"

"Tham?" he winced, wiggled, scowled and puckered up. "NO!" he moaned pitifully. "Go'way."

"How you feeling? Seeing anything? Birds maybe? Or smoke? Any feathers?"

Dean blinked and his eyes widened. He stared at Sam with a slack jaw. "Eh?" he managed, attention turning to his shoulder. "Ow." he raised his right hand to hold what gave him such pain, rocked to and fro several times then gave up and doubled over. "Sonofabitch."

"Yeah, it hurts, I know." Sam sighed, he packed the unused medical supplies back into the bag from which they'd come from then collected the trash which he threw into the fire. "HEY!" he slapped Dean's hand away from his shoulder. "You can hold, you can press against it, but don't you dare rub it! You ain't gonna undo all my hard work."

On his knees, chest to the floor with his torso twisted to keep his left shoulder elevated, Dean held his hands out for inspection. His grunt, Sam recognized, was not of pain. It was a question which required an answer from Sam.

"Now what?" Sam asked absently. "Yo, Bill. How's that coming?" he cast a look at his brother to see what the hell he was doing and, much to Sam's surprise, saw that he was counting. Counting his fingers. He was counting his fucking fingers. Sam seethed, throwing items about as he fought to control his temper. Dammit! Bleeding, suffering repeared bouts of unconsciousness, infected with a spiritual ailment and he was worried about the loss of a finger he still had!

"All ten." Sam gruffly assured him, gathering his fingers to squeeze – again – first on one hand, then the other. "You're good. Okay? Now stop."

The sounds of choking alerted Sam to the fact Billy had downed his mug of antidote and waited for him to bring Dean's over. He stood and stretched, cracking his knees and rolling the kinks out of his neck. One more scuffle with Dean and then they both should be able to relax and hopefully sleep the rest of the eighteen hours off.

"Roiling boil, right?" Sam accepted the mug from Billy. "Bill?"

"Yes." he was still pale and sweating noticeably. The drink had been even viler tasting the second time around! "I…aah…..I'm….gonna….puke." and he fled the room, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

Dean was a bit befuddled, somewhat confused and perhaps more than a tad out of it but that smell…oh God, he definitely remembered that smell. He scrambled to get his feet under his ass, but pain, exhaustion, effects of the curse and Sam's arms rendered him immobile.

"Nooooo." he moaned, pushing weakly at Sam's hands when Sam finally gave up coaxing and pleading and cajoling and bargaining and held Dean's jaw in a gripping hold. "Tham…..no."

"Sorry." Sam said gently, his soft smile apologetic. "One small mug is all. See? It ain't a big one…..okay, ready?"

Dean coughed, he choked, he wheezed, he gagged, he spluttered and sputtered and spit. He winced, he whined, he moaned, he whimpered. He squirmed, he shifted, he pushed, he slapped, he kicked. His head tossed, it rolled, it bobbed and bobbled. And through it all, Sam patiently held him, alternating between force and a gentle touch until finally, Dean settled and drank and swallowed.

The mug finally empty, Sam left Dean hugging the couch, cheek to cushion and went to wet some towels, gather bottles of water, find a clean mug, and fill a pail with cold water and another with hot water. He then sat back down on the floor, pulled Dean away from the couch and into the comfort of his arms. Dean once again settled easily and without fuss, head resting against Sam's shoulder and didn't protest Sam's clumsy attempts to clean spit, drool, saliva and antidote from his face, chin and neck.

Billy emerged from the bathroom, avoided the brothers and put more water on to boil. The pounding came on the door, followed by bouts of cursing and yelling and demands for entry. So, the others were back.

"Can I let them in?" Billy asked when Sam didn't move or tell him it was okay to open the door. "Sam?"

"Make sure Ronnie is with them and says the spell." Sam felt Dean tense, felt his body go rigid, felt sweat soak his sleeve. "Take Craig to the bedroom. Nate can take care of him there." okay, so, the antidote was going to make a reappearance. Sam sighed, he'd thought as much, had expected it, had prepared for it.

***000***

Once let into the cabin, Luke made straight for Sam, all anger and violence, Sam greeted the threat with bared teeth and low-throated growl but didn't move Dean off his lap or rise to his feet. Both Billy and Ronnie stopped Luke's attack; convincing him to leave Sam alone and to help them with Craig in the other room.

"Jesus Christ Luke!" Sam heard Ronnie scolding the irate hunter from the safety of the bedroom. "You trying to get shot in the head? What? You think he's gonna sit there and let you come at him with Dean between you two?"

Sam was relieved, having no desire to engage in yet another fist-fight. This time though, he would have done his best to knock Luke into the next week. He was fairly sure he was capable of doing so and doubted the others would interfere. The only drawback would have been having Dean in the way.

Sam looked down when the subject of his thoughts stirred, hands grabbing for something to hold. They found Sam's bare skin and pinched hard but Sam didn't complain or attempt to break the hold. Dean didn't do it out of malicious intent or rebellion; he did it out of pain, discomfort and abject misery.

"Here we go." Sam murmured. "Ride it out Dean, you're okay."

Sam held Dean through the heaving and bouts of retching, gave him water, holding the cup when his brother's hands were too shaky to do so. He kept the fire burning hot to ward off the never-ending chills that resulted in constant shivering. When Dean wanted to lie on the floor, Sam allowed him to. When Dean writhed on the floor from cramps, Sam sat beside him and kept a comforting hand on his back. When Dean broke out in sweat and flushed red, Sam fanned him with a magazine. When Dean's teeth chattered, Sam wrapped him up in a blanket and held him close. When he babbled nonsense, Sam talked him through it.

And so it went on. Minutes passed, or maybe hours, Sam didn't know, he didn't care. His only concern was getting Dean through his fight against the effects of the curse, the resulting symptoms and the reaction to both the wound and the antidote. Dean would look at him, sometimes his eyes would focus but he didn't call Sam by name nor did he speak. On the times Dean flopped onto his belly, right arm flung above his head, left held tight to his side, Sam took the opportunity to check his handiwork on Dean's shoulder and look for signs something else wrong: red streaks or black marks or bruising or discolored skin or blisters…something, anything.

The wounds – claw marks – were deep but stitches hadn't been required. No, the danger was infection and/or phantom symptoms Sam could neither predict nor prevent. All he could do was keep his brother warm, comfortable and safe and if his near presence meant he sported a bruise or two from clutching fingers, he had no problem with it. So, he sat and held and patted and rubbed and fanned and offered cool water, dipping a cloth in the now cooled pail of warm water to wipe the sweat from Dean's forehead and cheeks.

Dean would live, Sam_ knew _that_,_ had seen to it hours ago, but that knowledge failed to make what he was watching Dean go through any easier.

***000***

Activity whirled within the cabin. The four men tending their fallen comrade made a steady parade from the bedroom to the kitchen and back to the bedroom. Orders were barked, some were obeyed, arguments raged, movements were frantic but no one came anywhere near Sam. No, no one offered to help Sam with Dean and no one came to ask Sam for help with Craig.

And while Sam didn't care about Craig's condition, or really, whether Craig lived or died, because as far as Sam was concerned, it was Craig's fault Dean had been struck and poisoned, when Ronnie crossed the room and stood awkwardly next to the couch, waiting for Sam to speak, eventually, Sam spoke.

"What?"

"Aah, how's he doing?" Ronnie asked, shifting his weight uneasily. Sam had heard them arguing in the bedroom, had heard his name a time or two and had come to the conclusion they were arguing whether or not to ask for his help.

"What do you want Ron?" Sam asked tiredly, tone hostile. "You don't care how Dean is, so just spit it out and go away."

"That's not fair Sam." Ronnie retorted, running a hand through his hair. "Craig has yet to regain consciousness and…."

"Any wounds on him?" Sam interjected. "Claw marks or bites? Anything like that?"

"Aah…."

"He was exposed to the weather…..weather not of this earth…you have to get him dry and warm, but he's gotta want to fight Ron."

"Like Dean's doing?" Ronnie questioned. "How?"

"Yeah." Sam jounced Dean's weight in his arms until Dean stirred, murmuring his displeasure and raising a hand in protest. "Like Dean. And I know he's fighting because I can make him respond to me."

Dean roused, head moving from a damp chest, to a damper shoulder. Instinct and habit told him to respond, to climb through the dark and muck and misery and open his eyes and seek confirmation Sam wanted something from him. So he did, blinking open bloodshot eyes that briefly focused on Sam's upside down face, and closed again when he received a reassuring lopsided smile.

"Just like that." Sam swallowed hard, emotion hitting him hard. Dean was still pale, and as he'd done countless times before, Sam counted freckles. "Gotta look for injuries Ron. Gotta treat any you find."

"Billy said to make Craig drink the antidote, but he's not awake and….."

"Then pour it down his throat and hope he chokes on it and you keep pouring until he swallows. Don't quit and don't let him give up."

"Nate didn't….."

Sam held a hand up. "Don't." he warned. "Just don't. He sent Billy and Craig up there knowing damn well there were burial grounds up there. Maybe he didn't expect anyone to try and dig up a grave, but _knowing_ what he did, he should have been prepared it might happen. He should been prepared for _this_."

***000***

Sam sat on the floor, back slumped against the couch, legs splayed helter-skelter. He was cold, he was cramped and he was uncomfortable; his clothes had dried stiff and muddy, he was hungry, he was tired, his ass was numb, his back ached, his leg had fallen asleep, his knee needed to crack, his calf had a charley-horse, his thigh had long ago failed to feel Dean's weight, both legs hurt, his ankle, turned for so long at an odd angle, wouldn't straighten out properly and oh yeah, he couldn't wiggle any of his toes, but Dean was apparently comfortable, because he was _finally_ still and quiet, so Sam was reluctant to move and risk disturbing him.

No more shaking or panting or twitching. No more bouts of sudden sweat or sudden chills and violent shaking or fine trembling. No more vomiting or heaving. No more belly cramps, no more choking or gasping. No, Sam wasn't about to do anything that would disturb Dean who was sprawled on the floor between his legs, all draped over his right thigh, left shoulder elevated and his cheek on the bare floor, sleeping peacefully, because apparently – so-Dean-had-whined – it was the only comfortable position he could find that eased the ache in his shoulder.

All this after Dean had awakened on and off with bouts of coherency, fussing about his missing finger and every time Sam thought he had Dean finally convinced that; yes, he still had all ten fingers; yes, all ten attached fingers worked just fine; no, none were missing because Sam had taken care of everything – he was proven wrong when Dean woke up and started counting – again.

Dean woke up slowly. At first he didn't move because he didn't know where he was. He opened first one eye, then the other and allowed his senses to return. He was warm, if uncomfortable, his hip sore from lying on a wood floor. Oh sure, there was a hand-woven rub beneath him, but it offered little in the way of padding from the wood plank. Moving slightly, his body protested with aches and pains and tingling sensations from numb joints. Aah, well, what did he expect? He was getting too old to be sleeping on the floor.

Palms to the floor, he pushed his weight up, resting for a moment on his hip before turning around to sit on his ass. Okay, so, all in one piece. That was always good to know. Sam slept sprawled on his back in front of the couch, clothes wrinkled and muddy if mostly dry. At first, Dean thought he was asleep, but no, he should have known better – he did know better. Maybe Sam dozed or snoozed but if he had Dean on the floor, then his eyes would open and focus the moment Dean moved.

And they did.

"Hey." Sam laced his fingers behind his neck and cupped his head against the floor. "Finally awake, huh."

"Yeah." he stretched, wincing when his shoulder pulled tight. "So." he hissed, his skin stinging. "What hit me this time? Truck? Train?"

"Bird."

Dean didn't bat an eye, just sighed and reached for his shoulder then dropped his hand under Sam's disapproving look.

"Don't touch, huh?" Dean huffed. "Ow." he tried hunching, rolling, flexing, opted for relaxing his shoulder muscles as much as possible. "Stitches?"

"No." Sam sat up, fingers still interlocked and pointed towards the ceiling as he stretched, back cracking. "How you feeling? Ready to roll?"

"Can we?" there had to be some reason they were rusticating in a strange cabin. He heard voices. With strangers.

"By the time we're dressed and packed, yeah, we can roll." Sam pushed to his feet. "How's the shoulder feel?"

"Tight. Dunno why, but I kinda want a heating pad." he frowned. Huh, well, that was odd. "Tell me this fucking bird was the size of Pterodactyl or some such thing."

"Heat, huh?" Sam shrugged. "Thought you'd want ice."

"You'd think." Dean gave it some thought. Yes, he was sure he'd wanted ice before, but now…..no, not now. "Dunno."

"Eagle." Sam grinned. "Remember anything?"

"Coming back." he looked away. Way more than he wanted to remember was coming back! He gave the rug on the floor in front of the fire a dirty look. "Spiritual phantom then? Cudda been a Pterodactyl!"

"Yeah, well, that's what you get when poisoned by an ancient spell on cursed grounds." Sam pawed through a duffel bag, coming out with a package he used his teeth to tear open. He removed the contents, another package and squeezed the sides towards the middle. "Never know what you're gonna end up with."

"Fill me in on the way." Dean took the instant heat-pack. "What's his name?"

"Alive." Sam confirmed. "Dunno if he'll remain that way. They'll take him to a hospital."

"And you'll tell me why they couldn't before, right?"

"Yup." he reached to move Dean's hand to the back of his shoulder. "Don't press to hard. You'll burst those wounds open again."

"I have wounds?" more images and flashes of memories were assaulting him as he spoke. "Oh."

"Ready to get up?"

"Guess." but he didn't move. "You ever gonna tell me why the fuck we even came here?"

"This cabin?" Sam joked. "Well, see, you had to go and tackle this guy and…."

"Watch it." Dean accepted Sam's hand to gain his feet. "I ain't gonna feel like shit for long."

Thank God, Sam thought, looking around for Dean's boots. "Yeah, you don't play well with others, you know that?" he peeked out the window. Calm had descended on the cabin and all was quiet. "Okay, okay!" he held a hand up to ward off Dean's rising anger. "I'll tell you once we're in the car and I'm driving."

Dean had no problem with that. With the way his shoulder felt, he doubted he'd be able to shift the car into drive. No wait, wrong shoulder…..aww, hell! Fine, he doubted he'd be able to steer, how's that?"

"I need a drink." Dean muttered.

"No booze." Sam chided. "You'll have to make do with water. Here, can you get this shirt on?"

"Find me the sleeve." he accepted his fate with little show of irritation. Sam wanted him wearing a jacket, so wear a jacket he would.

***000***

Ronnie observed the brothers interactions from the doorway of the bedroom. They had minutes to go and then they could leave and take both Craig and Billy to the hospital. He didn't know if he'd ever cross paths with the Winchester brothers again, and he rather hoped he didn't but he knew several things for sure:

1\. Sam was a man of his word. He had spoken the truth; he'd helped them rescue Craig but that was all he'd done.  
2\. Nothing and no one – for any reason – would ever come before his brother.  
3\. Dean would live. Sam had seen to that on the mountain by knowing what he hunted and where he was and what to do before he'd ever left on the hunt in case something like what had happened, happened.  
4\. Sam hadn't cared if Craig lived or died. His life or death had been in Nate's hands, not either of the Winchesters.  
5\. He never wanted to make an enemy of either brother.  
6\. He was done hunting with Nate and Luke.  
7\. Winchesters DID NOT PLAY WELL WITH OTHERS!

Sam gathered their various bags, shouldered both his and Dean's backpacks, bundled his brother up and side-by-side, they left. Dean, a bit wobbly, accepted Sam's offer of support after a half-hearted slap-fest. Neither said a word to the other hunters, letting the door stand open as they exited the cabin and disappeared into the gloom, heading towards the trail that led to the cars.

"Ron? Time to go." Luke called once the backs of the brothers were no longer visible from the window. "Get Billy checked out at the ER while we see what they can do for Craig."

If anything, Ronnie thought. Whether Craig was going to live was still undetermined but Ronnie was damn sure Dean would be just fine. After all, he was Sam's brother.

***END***


End file.
